I am pushing that heavy cart of myself forward.
It is hard work.
The strive for meaning.
Hoping for change.
I finish, for today.
Inside I sit and wait.
Insecurity, doubt, pessimism, fear are all voices
that come knocking on my cool blue door.
I am not interested in such visitors.
I quiet myself.
Watching with closed eyes
the last falling feather of my day
And then stillness
Where the golden strands of
peace and understanding
begin the whispers of their weaving.
(SB)
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1 comment:
I am in awe of your poetry. You do such a good job of expressing your feelings. I know those 'visitors' well. I will try to remember to refuse to let them enter through my door.
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