Bev Cobbett
Be still, my mind!
Just a little while longer . . .
One day, soon. I promise! I. will. write!
But first,
I must purge this house . . .
And purge my soul . . .
Rid every nook and cranny
Of the muck and mire that drowns my fire.
That chokes it out.
That chokes it down.
That stops it from igniting.
I know the fire is there—I feel its heat!
Always . . . I feel the heat . . .
Its coals are deep. Smouldering. Sometimes flaring, but
Never bursting into flame. Always muffled . . .
By endless
Relentless
“I Shoulds!”