The scrambling of the now-time

Who sees this? Does it matter? Will words flow if there are no minds to receive them?

I do not know. I have to write articles now that people will see me and I'm scrambled because I've taken on a new task for one of the people who pay me and I'm out of balance as a result.

I'm also finding myself on auto-pilot in pursuit of a person in an intellectual manner, and I'm not doing a good job of tying myself to the mast. This person is elusive, though, and time will pull the pieces apart. 

I want to just relax and enjoy myself but these are not the times for such activity. There are clear and present danger signs all around us and the path ahead may be cruel. 

But who see this? What do I hold back for myself? What would I rather be doing if I could have my time back as mine?  What will I do when I reclaim what I can? 

For now, I must go back to the place where I need to be. 



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