There are days like this that one feels\
untrue to one's own self\
acknowledged with surety in the chambers of a gently pulsing heart\\
Like a ronin without a master\
lost in the churning waves without an overlord\
but led by a noble heart, all the same.\\
Like an artist without an art\
- dangerous, I know -\
for artists may sway to any ideal\
of self-effacing battles\\
in allegiance to loved idea(l)s,\
Always, for love.
There are days
All I want
is a room of light.
And if there be walls
then let these walls be
Everyone braves her or his own storms
in the best ways they imagine
they are capable of.
Everyone pushes themselves to be
the best they can be - whatever it might be -
And that is how they met.
Over old scars.
In what they knew to be theirs
and theirs alone.
A secret understanding of pain
that once tore through their fragile bones
Left them shattered
Forged anew from the ashes
Today was a strange day.
There is so much upheaval all around
Even after the life-changing crisis that
Strange, this life.
Like a face-changing artiste
Unpredictable. Ever-changing. Endlessly surprising.
Overflowing with compassion in the one moment,
and unfathomably ruthless, the next.
What a grand schoolmaster, Life is. (Lear's Regan was right.)
Each of us braves our own storms,
and suffering rocks the world's ancient oceans.
Yet, there is kindness left - and hence rain from the heavens we share -
spanning the corners of this globe.
The words do not come when I write.
Away from the notebook, the computer, the humble pencil,
the ideas flourish.