A fear gripped world.

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Fear can grip us and hold on.

Clinging to us like a bad odor.

Stifling the movement in the motion of being.

An impediment that if not removed by the shrug of experience becomes chiseled in the granite of a heavy soul.

I’ve been swamped by it while snorkeling through the mud of hesitations, that keep me book marked in the dusty pages of time.

 

 

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