detritus

Sometimes, it’s just a little rough around the edges, gravel on the margins.  A bit dingy, a trifle moldy.  Beauty is less obvious, but resides there nonetheless.  It is slightly irreverent, a bit heretical, and altogether obtuse – just the way we like it; we’d have it no other way.  Get into it, wear it like skin, drink it like bathtub gin.  A little dab will do ya, and the patches that you sew and the ragged cloth and the scrabble will indelibly leave their mark, a scar, a scab, a badge of honor, and we are better for it.  For the tatters of life we give thanks.  Blesséd be, and Amen.

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