There is no bastion left for me
in this uncharted territory.

The birds have stopped tweeting
their daily prayer, and images
undownload themselves into the aether.

What I wanted was some peace to act
like I never knew anything but.

Every path forward is a path into
the waiting jaws of a sleeping bear
dreaming about an emotion it cannot explain.

Rage? Not as sweet.
Patience? Not as bitter.

I dole out what I have into small packages
and at the end of the day I put them
back into my body. Like kneading
dough, a rinse and repeat, constantly
plucking parts off my self.

Why do I do that? Rage? Patience?
I do not know but I do it anyway.

Is someone watching me, miles away
on the barren landscape through
a pair of lens-cracked binoculars?
Spreading my name on the desert wind?

I would not know.
I do not know a lot of things
and I can only try my best
to accommodate everything.

That’s what a king does,
a king in this empty land,
the king of the quiet throne,
in the depth of the halls
of the mountains flanking
the pines. But I know that
there are limits;
the iron belly of this hand-forged pot,
the square shoulders of my wooden hut.

Why do I do the things I do?
Rage, patience – no.
A slow, patient, rage,
boiling slow over the fire,
diffusing itself into the water.

Yes, I am angry at something today.
No, I’ll wait to find out what.
Yes, I know what I can or cannot do.
No, I will not. No, I will not yet.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

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