Payment Of A Pacer
I am in a valley.
That which I deem my lowest point of my walk.
Yet this valley has stretched for so long I cannot see where it starts to ascend.
Nor can I see where I first descended into it.
I have been in this valley for so long it’s my new neutral ground.
The old neutral ground is far too high for me to reach.
The footprints in this valley are definite.
They never fill and they are not fresh.
There’s nowhere in this valley I can walk where I have not already been.
I’ve paced every inch.
I’ve made my display of loss prominent in here.
Every step I take pays homage to my losses.
It’s almost as if while I’ve been down here I’ve been wracking up a severe debt so that if I ever happen to climb out by some odd chance, the weight of my transgressions will sink me into a new valley.
A similar looking one full of a new opportunity of losses.
Each step will be walking on thorns again until they become buried in the mud after being stepped on so much.
After that I’ll be comfortable walking in the valley and I wont have to want out.
Though even if I wanted out, even if I found the ends of the valley.
I had made sure to crash hard on my way down so as to wreck any stable step upward.
Surely if the world is falling on me it is because I tripped it when it was suppose to only walk by me.
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear pacer, you’ve transgressed upon here too!
Written 11 March 2026 at 8:31 PM
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