the weight is lifted, the unease remains, this is how life unfolds: always teetering on the brink of euphoric joys and crushing sadness, we must live in the middle - balancing on the knife-edge - not seeing the future, but being prepared for what may come, never leaning too far into joy nor sorrow, we must keep on always, keep on
Tag: poetry
Future Days
how much darker will the days grow, when might we find the dawn of a new beginning; hope is a gossamer thread and our hands are blunt instruments, clinging in desperation, we beg a sign, for the light we see is a confusion of potentialities, and we hunger for substance - it can't all come from within - something to reward our faith, that better days lie ahead
Cry, The Beloved Country
on a warm day the pleasure of the sun drew my eye from book to sky - blue and endless, it stretched the length of my dreams - in that moment I understood I was small, still I felt full to bursting with the life thumping inside me from the strong emotions built up by the beautiful book in my lap - a small plane cut a puffy gray trail across the blue canvas above, "man built that", I thought, so there must be hope for this world