Ask
my
upper
management.
Tell me what I need
to know, just what I need to know.
You have all you need. She gently says. It's inside you.
There's nothing I can do to tell you more. Was I cleaved in two? The one-who-knows, who has
a mind, or the other one who thinks she must be told?
The body says slow down, if you
must run and kick, but
not if you will speed past the bend
beyond the path that hides trolls lying there to trip you.
Your body speaks, relax, let everything else melt, and soften, give yourself the means to
roll, but not if you must still be stalwart, holding your
back stiff as though to mount a stage
to speak. The dead say,
protect life. Take care. Don't let life
leave unless you need it to collapse. Let that be so.
The future says beware. There are threats here. There is no way beyond this fact. Stay steadfast.
Balance give and take, or, if you want to, step aside,
consider that, and take your time.
This is your history,
the future
of your
life
now.
