Limbo is a place to revel, a way station, comforting, warm solitude, waiting and not waiting, anticipating a torrent, a flood of intensity and rich construction that builds up water pressure in a knotted garden hose, hoping for release, praying for salvation, stepping through a doorway into something unknown yet familiar, comforting but alien, frightening and invigorating. Come, you inevitable deluge, wash over this parched riverbed and take away the stink of years.
© Poem Fix http://www.poemfix.com 2012
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