It’s the strangest feeling,
When someone else is pouring,
Over words that you,
And you alone, have known.
Your baby, your secret, yours
But now no longer so.
It’s out there, in the wild.
It’s prone, susceptible.
Exposed to public whim.
How will they handle it?
With care or carelessness?
Indifference or joy?
Now the time of reckoning.

My thesis is rewritten and has just returned from my proofreader. Soon it will be submitted, and this labour of love and anger will be handed over to others to judge…
(07.12.22)

© Ben Quant 2022