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And what I have is what I own.
And what I own is precious.

On a Continuum 

Sitting in the April, Sydney sun,
On two, plastic chairs.
Fading on a cement slab.
Back fence and a rear lane.
Where the dunny truck ran.
With a woman and a dog.
A big dog and a beautiful woman,
In her glowing fifties, draped with a scarf.
This woman has paid her dues, and won.
Just for today.
And the inner, city wind blows.
Quietly. Sparkling.
Over a waning, early afternoon.
And a harbour, past a dock and a boat.
Or two, to us.
Woman, dog and I.
The dog raises its lion like head.
And I catch his owner’s glint, in a canine eye.
And he’s smiling, so I smile back.
To the dog and his owner.
Away over where?
And I cast my eye back to this woman.
Magnificent, comfortable and strong.
In her feminine spirit.
And I want, what she has, on a continuum.
A spiritual, carnival ride.
Further down the line, she is, but I follow.
And it gets easier, further down the road.
Comfort and safety in the knowledge.
That I am enough.
And what I have is what I own.
And what I own is precious.
Change is the knowledge of the need.
Not to improve, but accept, 

That the best is not yet to come.
But here. Today. Right now.
And what will come is not the best.
But another day, and another.
Day after day, in a moment to moment continuum.
And that is enough. Enough.
And when enough is enough.
The best need not exist on the continuum.
Because, at the end, when all is said and done.
I will be done, not thine, but mine.
Dead and done.
And the early afternoon wind, becomes a fresher blow.
And runs up the cottage littered hill.
To a row of red brick shops.
Then done, to blow another day. 


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This is an excerpt from One Day, One Life: One Day One Life

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