A Thought That Continually Haunts Me
Is that it is nearly finished, and therefore I need to put a bow around it. But the very act of putting a bow around it causes it to ossify and later to collapse. And the collapse carries with it an undermining of the meaning that has undergirded my life.
I can't find a way out of this conundrum. I feel as if I am trying to box my way out of a wet paper bag. Futility sets in.
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