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image credit…. olivier rieu

On The Precipice
Standing on the edge of the world
To the place where I had been hurled
The bosky landscape was gone
No longer just somebody’s pawn
Starting over with trepidation
For this, there is no explanation
Here I awoke in the misty morn
My heart in shreds and badly torn
Abandoned now, everything expended
Possibly that’s the way intended
Beauty, a far cry from my vision
Just some object of derision
Numerous paths confuse my way
Should I go or should I stay
This is the precipice of my life
Speculation and concern overly rife 
J.B. LeBuert

i have been feeling so bitchy and so very combustible this week. i am sure it’s not just one thing, but a compilation of tangential crap.
the manager of 10 years at my workplace is transferring out in two weeks. i have been working to infuse changes there with his blessing and am uneasy about the future of this work. fear (connected to my control issues) runs amok and  what actually  follows is a mystery. i find myself walking on broken glass and feeling it. ouch!!!
my good friend still wrestles with his cancer diagnosis and i wait for additional cues to be supportive. i can’t mend the situation and this feels a handicap and leaves me jogging in quicksand..
there are so many other aspects of my simple life that seem in flux right now. embarrassingly, i catch myself feeling ungrounded, over-reacting, a little paranoid and a lot more touchy. at some moments, it seems all that i’m waiting for is the fire.
uncertainty and unknowing, it seems, are the kindling splinters that could just start a forest fire that gets outa control. or at least that’s how it feels.
mercury leaves retrograde after tomorrow (or so i am told). i don’t know if my sanity will return. i am hoping it does. the situations over which i currently have no control will remain, but my agility to resist the urge to squirt emotional butane all over my life and throw a match feels almost nonexistent.
there is something very deja vu ish about all this. it seems foggy but familiar. maybe that’s the bigger concern. it this a recycled pattern from my old life play book? or is this a new play?
where is my relationship to spirit in all this? this is likely the question to ponder.

I’m the trouble starter, punking’ instigator 
I’m the fear addicted, and danger illustrated 

I’m a firestarter, twisted firestarter 
You’re the firestarter, twisted firestarter 
I’m a firestarter, twisted firestarter 

I’m the bitch you hated, filth infactuated – yeeeaaaah
I’m the pain you tasted, fell intoxicated

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