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or better yet, call them my weapons. It’s through them that I live and without them I may as well be dead. The Divine dictates my life and has anointed me with a skill to enable these, my weapons, to extract meaning or purpose from what seems like an inescapable maze of which I stumble to navigate.
A meager substance to some. A pittance. Some half-chance effort full of last ditch mediocrity. They wreak of sub-par and can’t be taken seriously… but they’re the glue that holds my heart together.
However weak my arms may be, they are all I have to carry my load. However broken they are, my legs are all I have to stand on.
My shell and my weight. Turtle life.