In the cold and lonely morning, In the gray and sullen light, There's a sadness, and a longing With each step amid the blight. There's a comfort, somehow, knowing That the world is past our might; That there's more than just what's showing, All the pain amid the blight. Are you loved, and are you … Continue reading "Amid the Blight"
a welcoming of everything like sun, the marriage of convenience and desire, a cabaret of indolence and peace. how is it that one finds a separate peace with all our troubles magnified by sun that shines into the cracks in our desire? a shibboleth: the words that mean desire -- a constituted wreck upon the … Continue reading "the state of the world."
In music, she can live another life, For sound is architecture, and ideal; It’s nature and it’s calm amid the strife Of all the world has come to make her feel. To make of chaos, beauty, order, love — To find in sorrow, comfort and release — To be beneath, within, and yet above, To … Continue reading "Another Life"
Summer hits hard When you’re on your feet all day Customers, patrons, friends Seem like So many hostile invaders after awhileAnd she has eight more weeks of thisBefore she goes back to school And she can’t remember Why she took this job Why she’s even going to school Or why being around people Tires her … Continue reading "In The Whirl of Seasons (3)"
Love may not begin with self-love, But it rarely makes it past its absence. Exercise and forest air, Water, sweat, and absent noise -- She finds that working at loving herself Tends to achieve its objectives, at best, Imperceptibly. But she trusts the process, as they say. To cultivate her mind, she is learning, Exploring, … Continue reading "In The Whirl of Seasons (2)"
It's neither grief, nor flaws: Some sadness has no cause, But merely is, like gravity, Or nature's other laws. She's chilly to the bone, And one thing is her own: And that's that she is here, and now, And totally Alone
Early Wednesday, people stirring, Place not open, motors whirring, Lobbies full of walkers bleary, Heavy baggage, workers weary, Lonely trav'ler, sittting, waiting Scanning phone and incubating Thoughts of nothing, applications Made for daily mass sedations Breakfast soon and what's-called coffee, Toxins for the ever-groggy, Working, fretting, selling, buying -- Life goes on amid The dying
blown leaves and shadows kissing the daylight moving where the heart finds rest we often find evidence of what tired it formerly
pleased and soft shadows of years lost fall colors a strange majesty in silence and the small wet leaves