Dharma communa

So, I am grief, the horseman, that sadness that lives in the image developed over centuries of a sedentary lifestyle. I came with a capital letter, I appear in posts, you probably notice it yourself. Sometimes I smolder inside your belly, you give me names and I have to leave. But I come back, and you give me a new name, and you want to be with me, and now, when I call you, you are forced to leave. You think that I’m alive, that I know what I’m doing, but you are the author, you. Don’t bend, don’t write my name, straighten your shoulders, write when you stand up to your full height, then we’ll talk. Call me, you remember how. So here I am, grief, you are the horseman, the living image of death.