Let Fly by Paul Schweer
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The future's uncertain
And the end is always near.
Let it roll, baby.
-- Jim Morrison
"Storing energy," somebody says.
I stop and look around, try to find the voice.
Sitting in a straight chair just off the mat,
looking like some kind of lumpy cross between
a stack of beat-up sandbags and a well-loved teddy bear,
Chuck Clark is looking hard at me.
I look at my partner. He gives me an understated
heck-if-I-know. I walk to the mat's edge
and sit in seiza there.
"Storing energy?" I say.
"I can see it sitting all the way over here," he says.
"Every time you attack...." And he demonstrates.
Sure hope I didn't look like that.
But I did probably.
I remember, in fact,
feeling like that.
He asks the guy next to him, "How do you say it?"
Dennis Hooker answers, "A log fallen on the forest floor,
if it burns in an hour or takes years to rot,
it releases all of its energy either way."
And I don't.
I'm still holding back. Holding something in reserve.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why not let it go?
Throw it out there. Let fly. Give it what I've got.
Whatever's there. Why not?
Am I afraid of what might happen if I turn loose?
Why aren't I afraid of what might happen if I don't?
Am I afraid?
Is something bad going to happen?
Yes, of course it will.
If I hold something back?
Something bad will happen.
If I give it all I've got?
Something bad will happen.
Ah, damn it, I'm afraid. And it's kicking my ass.
I don't like the idea of giving that much.
What's left for me if I give it all away?
I want a little something for myself.
And I know better. Knowing better doesn't help.
I want what I want.
Even when I don't want to.
I don't know how to fix that.
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