Re... Re... Reset!

For once I am writing
not out of sadness,
out of depression,
of misery.


At last I awoke from the nightmare that was,
the regret,
the pain,
confusion, anguish,
gone with it.


Indeed I bid my time,
and time it was that I needed.
My thanks to you,
living and no-.

For the living,
the attention,
advice (solicited or not),
patience.
Or the lack thereof.
There's only few, so you'd know who you are.

For the non-living,
the numbness,
diversion, albeit temporary,
it all helped.


I am writing to celebrate life...
or whatever this is that I have is called.
A welcome change.
Indeed there has been a lot,
and yet, nothing much.
So here I am, writing.
Another chapter has closed.
Abrupt or not,
closed, nonetheless.
Ready for a new one,
as the moon begins to settle.



"Alas, the Poet found an unlikely cure from the Scorpion,
the same one whom he repeatedly stepped on.
And yet it is the that same Scorpion
whose sting removed the spreading poison,"