The Ordinary, Interspersed with Brilliance and Pain

Years are slow when measured in hours. I wish I could always see the long view of the passage of time. I measure suffering in hours. How many hours? But the hours pass and a day is over and then it is another day and time goes on and does not hold onto pain. Time does not hold onto pain.

This should be repeated:
Time does not hold onto pain.
Time does not hold onto pain.
Time does not hold onto pain.
Time does not hold onto pain.
Time does not hold onto pain.
Time does not hold onto pain.
Time does not hold onto pain.
Time does not hold onto pain.

Soon, time will have moved through me and taken with it the hurt. It will water down my insides with mundane, brilliant things.

Like laundry. (water)
And dishes. (water)
Short trips to the beach. (water)
Routine walks around the creek in the park. (water)

So many steps yet to take for water to move in and separate the molecules tightly packed now.

.

I often think my writing is too flowery. My dog has a penchant for running off these days. I envy her.