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Sunday, May 18, 2008


Persistent as a squirrel’s winter game,
the dogged winter sea, the rainy skies,
I struggle on. Determined, driven flame
which burns within me, always to abide.
And hurricanes may beat me all the same,
but still I struggle on and keep alive.
And hail may stone me, lions less than tame,
but still I live, and shall but never die.

Persistent as the bloody flies that bite,
the cranky dogs, the salesmen at the door;
Persistent as the monstrous, chilling night,
the nagging termites gnawing at the floor,
I’ll still persist with all my hopeless might
and still be here to haunt you, evermore.

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A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!