Profundo / profundere: to Pour Forth, shed, to cause to flow….to release, discharge…
Profligo: to Strike to the ground, debase, ruin…
What will it ever mean,
Blasphemous chants?
A perfectly clear day, ensconsed in a ruminatory pain,
despite all wantings of a wash – - out.
Critical recollection of abusive self-characterization,
if only she would allow herself to be entertained once in a while,
rather than worrying that she is not performing her function.
That is the great folly of time – - that it pretends to hold a truth that is outside of the self – -
to be given like an award once she has earned it rightfully, like a knight after a successful quest.
The Golden Hour never arrives and the ribbon slips through her clasp again and again until
those little paws bleed. If only then…what would it take to be satisfied otherwise?
