grief is
only our mind-full attachment to method.
by grief, we are in review
of the myopia we have lived.
as if the sameness
that we have come to experience
ever conquers the uniqueness
of each sensory second imbibed.
that we conger into recognition
brands us into sensory intakes
that, in the short-form,
feature repetition into remembrance.
we generate memories on this basis.
grief is a life born out of conclusions.
we identify with what we call familiarity.
we ease away from the uniqueness of each second
specifically for this purpose
as a passive entrainment of being.
reality is then the production of boring composition.
and so we fight that off
by perceiving newness
in the same light
as we already hold deeply on to the past.
it is a war zone of contrast and comparisons.
thus we create value terrains
that are under-dimentionalized
for the zest of spirit
or expression of soul.
a thirst yet we linger in
but never quite quench.
and so we sip from grief
as if it is unknowingly,
a taste of whine.
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