Dark and deed it lays

It plays in my sleep.

No kindness does it display. 

I try to keep it at bay. 

I cry while I lay.

I am stout. 

But, their shout lays me out. 

I begin to decay. 

Far I run, try remember not.

Sullied is my mind 

It’s chill through out my soul. 

I am bullied by its time. 

No place to hide I find.

It is disguised in lies.

My pace slows unkind.

Now it touts my sighs. 

Into the mind I belie. 

Author: Forgetfulness

The freedom of self forgetfulness, is found through fly fishing on remote streams in the high country of the west slope of the central Sierra. Being alone in the high country, mends the mind and soul. Then, I am better prepared to meet the trials of this temporal world.

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