Blogging, or: Abraham

Once upon- 

            he cared- what they thought of him,
Wrenching- at him- soul and limb;
  Oh- how things changed;
And the days, of course, as they ran their course,
Only saw things go- from bad to worse;
  All became more estranged;
Then came a day- he was faced with death
(Though he wasn't there for love's last breath);
  Darkness- swallowed- his light;
'Safe' and 'simple' broke, something black awoke,
  Fingers- aching to write

All the prose he wrote- and the poetry,
Available to friends and family,
  provided- release;
He wrote long and short- and slow and fast,
            some of- his own truth at last;
  Mind and heart wouldn't cease;
Language took him- far away from grief,
Daily blown- and battered like a leaf,
  He kept at this, day and night;
How, he couldn't say; kept the tears away,
  Couldn't fake what he'd write

Rejecting tweets, soundbites and Instagram,
He welcomed
            meaning in- like Abraham
  Would invite his guests;
Arguing with God- about beliefs
Brought him
            no small amount of relief,
  He was granted some rest;
And there arose long buried memories;
Breaking past thin mental boundaries,
  Strange fancies took flight;
Down upon his knees, whispering- God please,
  Please- make it alright

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