the calendar flips yet we remain the same - as cold in January as we were in December - we declare ourselves new people, promising fresh starts; we change nothing, though we know our deficiencies and self-flagellate with great remorse; declaring we will improve, we find too much comfort in the simple ease of remaining the same; accepting our limitations as time, age or disposition, excusing in ourselves what we won't in others - afraid of the greatness we might achieve with change.
Category: Poetry
Introversion
hints of mourning sun cast soft light at the edges of a lonely dark night warming the emptiness within - I welcome its purity, its promise of a new day, another opportunity to be what I'm not; it's why I'm here now: I need the strength of this calm before the world wakes, screaming from their beds, engines roaring to life racing towards more - in these quiet moments the world makes sense - birdsongs' soothing music echoing across the silence, the chaos of existence a forgotten memory. I soak in this warmth, reminding myself all of this is a gift, I brace for another day.
Doubt
do I deserve this? the question echoes in my mind, as exhaustion lowers my fragile defenses allowing me to see clear a past littered with broken dreams, failures, and the deep wounds I have caused. I am doubt wracked with guilt over days I can't change, I wonder: "am I worthy of this - or any - happiness?" because it warms me now - in spite of this fatigue - it feels right I would cling to it for all I'm worth - have I done enough to earn this moment? yes