The year grows tiny:
Regrettably not the last
Time I close my eyes
The author and site owner can be reached at leeundercedartrees@gmail.com.
I'm a middle-aged nobody breathing one day at a time in Ontario, Canada.
This tiny corner of the Internet is an outlet for unmasking random thoughts and creations surrounding life in general, adventures in budō, and any other topics that come to a ridiculous mind.
"Through journaling, your voice cannot go unheard."
The year grows tiny:
Regrettably not the last
Time I close my eyes
I wake late to find him gone again
Boots gone with him, but favourite things remaining
I love this name of mine,
This name of no other;
This name I can’t — won’t! — kill
Just to satisfy…
I can say it, and that seems to get the message across. But all the rest of my love just falls flat.
You, far away,
have uncurled your fist for the gentle one
who travels so far,
day after day,
to climb into your palm.
I’m a ghost, haunting on stolen time
I’m surviving tonight
I’m training myself on inhibition defeat
How much drugs to kill the resistance?
I searched under dead leaves
Then in snowbanks
Then in the muddy farmers’ fields
Slick with damp autumn rain
I searched under my shared bed
Then on the highest bookshelves
…
A brother sets out
Chasing a runaway heart
Blazing through the night sky
A sister remains
Making a wish back home
On a shooting star
December 19 – 20, 2005
I’ll sit at the table.
I’ll eat the dinner, I’ll listen to the conversation.
I’ll unwrap gifts along with the others.
I’ll be there, but there’ll be moments where I’ll realize it will be a tiny bit different this time around.
…
Fear moves through me.
Anger moves through me.
Each will pause for a time before moving along.
Each will always return.
When they move through me,
I must remember:
They visit;
I do not become.
When they return again,
I must remember:
They are smoke and wind.
They come to me.
I am neither.
December 16 – 18, 2025