Monday

Pictographic Divider

3 strikes but not out...

And the toll strikes 3, am that is, and slumber is not in the picture, at least for now. They say you can feel the approach of death and a calmness abounds and knowing this, I must admit the 'they' is correct as I listen intently to the fat lady warming up her vocal chords, practicing her scales, showing me her outfit dressed in a Gothic sort of way, little color but wind swept and makeup of tribal tones, singing 'The Carnival is Over' by Dead Can Dance, a rendition I have never heard before and will never hear again.

The echos are louder than ever and she having presented herself to me, makes me believe that the fat lady will sing soon and not later as I had hoped and wished for but I still will fight with the will I have left, feeling drained, my life force depleted and my body emaciated from the trials, the tribulations and the fight that has valiantly been fought...

I await something and this I know. I feel it. It's the what that has me puzzled, baffled but certainly not fixated as it simply is my fate, chosen or otherwise but mine and acknowledged as that.
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