The Fast 

Hearty handfuls of everything here and now have well and truly clouded the system. Arteries are thick with the residues of satisfaction. The breath is now shallow. Tasting the sweetness of now has stolen from a true enjoyment of the atmosphere. The peripheral mind atrophies when it’s allowed to dwindle in the somber swirls of comfort. The obesity of malcontent hasn’t been an issue to the body well suited to the wasted patch of immediacy. 
Starve the ego, let it drain its own energies with the complaints it’s more than ready to deposit, but too cowardly to withdraw from. Sometimes that lethargy needs to meet its match. Fast, sweat out the evil seeds. Something offers itself up when the slate is wiped clean. 
Don’t act as though you’ve never though about it. You washed up on the shores of your greatest dreams and found yourself prisoner to the harbour. The helm of your vessel was too sweet a temptation to touch on the uninterrupted forest that lines the coast. The vessel isn’t a bad omen or an enemy to your voyage so far. It kept you in good stead, when the waves were peaking over the bow and testing the firmness of your journey it was there for you. Your ship held fast, though you were lost and wondering, it kept you far enough above the swim to afford you breath. Beaching on the coast was a blessing and a curse, you haven’t found your Atlantis, but el dorado is within reach. 
Burn that cask of fermented thought, let the plumes of distress signal in your intent to be the next brave soul to wonder “what if?” and journey far enough to find an answer. 
Fast. 
Sweat away the labours of your fears and give in to the little spark of effervescence that weened you off the shores of the other world and into the tumultuous sheet of adventure you survived, to make a home on the shores of possibility. 
I can never promise safety. If I did you’d be unamused by such a sterile venture. You have managed to conquer the seas of uncertainty and found a new adventure. The new night that shrouds your courage illuminates when you are brave enough to part with the match sticks that steal from the wonder of the naked stars. 
Adventure is calling. Fast your heart, mind and body. Weed out the impurities, allow the garden of your true potential a fighting chance to sprout wonders. 

Author: The Blissful Nomad

I'm a writer, Poet, Spoken Word Artist who fell in love with words at a weird time in my life. A chance to create is precious, getting to share what my mind pieces together is something special. I hope you enjoy reading, feel free to get in touch, any feedback is appreciated.

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