Never have I faced an adversary so fascinating… or formidable.  Though I wear a brave face, my knees buckle when he’s around and I have to hold onto the table.   It takes a lot of effort to curb my mind from wandering into forbidden territory.

He won’t admit it, but I know he’s cast a net and pulls it a little tighter every day.  I can feel it drawing close, channelling me down into the lion’s mouth where he’s patiently waiting like a man assured of victory. 

I’m constantly amazed by his unruffled demeanor.  If he shares my agitation, he hides it well behind eyes that look like the south Atlantic.  Only once did they betray him and it led to my undoing.

And now I’m willingly caught in the snare, but loathe to move until he pulls away the netting and resuscitates me.  Until then, I float in suspended animation, neither living nor dying, waiting only for that moment when all that is within me bursts forth and showers down like rain.


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