The angst & grumbling of the slow building rumbling deep within the bowels of oneself is a soft thunder that often declares...I am here.
Not the presence of joy, but unknown.
Not the joy filled bundled day, but the unknown.
Not the love that refreshes, but the unknown.
The unknown groaning of incompleteness, imperfection & insecurity that the next corner in life may not be what you want.
Groaning is that realization that my life isn't what I want it to be.
“The course of life is unpredictable. No one can write his autobiography in advance.”
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