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Kimboski

My old Companion

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Kimboski

This is the last piece I wrote as a means of release.

I stand here, feet firmly planted on the soil. Back in the old familiar territory. Where so very many times I have found myself.
I release a weary sigh as I raise my head from the ground and take in all that surrounds me. Endless fields of golden wheat as far as the eye can see. Golden and ready to harvest. The Irony is not lost on me and I smile faintly with the knowledge of what is to come.
The heat of the sun is luxurious on my skin and I enjoy it while I can.
I look in the direction I know I need to. Sure enough, my old friend is there.
The boiling, black, thunderous storm is approaching. Emanating promises of chaos and destruction. Threatening darkness and pain and hurling abuse.
The approach is far too slow and it enrages the black screaming clouds to the point of incandescent fury.
I place my hands in my pockets, tilt my head to one side and give the merest hint of a smirk in what I hope is an insult.
It works.
The howls and screams become deafening as it is nearly upon me.
‘Just fucking get on with it, you’re boring me now’, I manage to say as my final attempt at insult.
For the very first time I realise my fear has been replaced with acceptance and disgust……and I start walking towards it.
There’s only one thought now……..where will I wake up this time?

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