No renunciation

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There are times when you question your value, and frantic ideas of futility and incapacity weaken your innermost stable bonds of confidence. Times when there seem to be no finale to a perpetual and exhaustive cycle of struggles, no tangible resolution to a grandiose reverie to which you dedicated years and years of vigor, credence and persistence. You know, those times when the ropes of your destiny feel tangled and out of reach, and random circumstances contour only failures and rejections. Do not give up! Not until your last grasp of air, not before you mercilessly and utterly squeezed every single globule of the vital energy that aliments your engine-the core of you all-your soul. Be an everlasting ivy, infiltrate your slender limbs in the tower of precariousness, cover in buoyant green its facade of gloomy desolation. You will make it. Take it. Have it. And even if losing it, don’t despair, as sometimes ” it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is.”

No renunciation

I scrape and stumble on the narrow kerb, but no tangible anxiety:
My mugger ability is evident in my haughty shins of confidence.


Besides, the moat is not labyrinthine enough as to prevent the
Brambles from growing resistant and providing me bleeding
And support if I do get the chance to show my swimming inability.

             The stammer doesn’t frighten me, it doesn’t, only the petulant thatch               Of no’s that cover my eyesight sabotages a bit my gruff steadiness.

                The shaky edges ruefully lacerate my chenille, but no veritable fear:                           My heralding bugle’ll never allow me to veer my direction to qualms                Of renunciation because gophers dig holes of refusals in my pulps.

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