Pushing paper in the dark

I’ve tried hustle.
I’ve worked until my arms ached, and my eyesight failed into the dim light of dusk.
My bones have coughed out marrow.

I hunched and toiled past the hands of time.
I ate words and listened to night fall like thunder.
I devoured, plodded, straightened my back and swallowed the dawn.
I watched the stars drift past my desk and the old owl swoop close to the moon, and I heard his soulful call among the wolves.

I’ve tried hustle:
Paper piled high against the darkness.

My limbs grew tired of the weight.

Nature Lover, Former Mental Health Professional, Writer

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