My flesh bids a thousand and one words. God bids silent, meditative discomfort, seeking His transformative peace. This reduction is always stirred with relentless or iterative quiet. Where is the benefit in abrasive pestering if not in the quest to be changed, renewed and made better this time round?

Running in circles the circumference of that which has been repetitive brings no ease. Yes there is ignorant bliss in meandering passed the same indifferent landmarks. In objective review what if anything but the same old thing has been accomplished or applauded? Rising bile, guile, ill advised tantrum and/or upset.

Robust in calamitous repeat. Same target, same ding of bell, same small stuffed prize. Calm is the prize never sought or most frequently relented for the opportunity to do it one more time. Catalyst must be willfully embraced, change must be undertaken to be accomplished. A man cannot be two people or in two places at once.

Cannot find the fear and trembling to amble this skinny road while seeking upset, delight or achievement in spirits otherwise. The only growth in union must be experienced, felt and remembered by both parties involved in each joyous predicament.

Burrs and blown sandals. The handful of sand inconveniently lodged in the crux that may not be ignored. When confronting oneself, special care must be taken to honest focus upon that which remains untested or transformed. My own bias though temporary presents the lasting details of deja vu.