Maya Angelou (I think?) said that every storm runs out of rain.
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."
Maya Angelou (I think?) said that every storm runs out of rain.
I was not prepared for this
Stage of life I find myself in
Things were improving with years
Until they weren’t
And my shadow form has started punching down
In ways I could never see coming
After shoving me into the ring
The longer I seal my lips
The more sour it becomes
This metallic silence
…
Chasing more sunsets
forward, forward, ever on:
both the world and he
It’s not really wanting to die so much as wanting to disappear.
Dying does take care of that, but maybe there’s other ways.
Today was a little clearer than usual.
I turn your chair to face me
Press you into the back
Collapse onto you
In a trusting embrace
Breathing deeply, your cotton shirt
Feels so soft against my cheek
Smelling of safe comfort
And stable familiarity
…
Today the nervous vibrations
Slow a little
Calm a little
…
Morning brought no change;
with burning scents on the wind
routine drives forward
The haunting persists:
I carry on ignoring
its calls for reset
(Follow up to Senryū 2025.03.27)
Another sleep comes soon
hoping morning brings waking
changed or not at all
(Followed by Senryū 2025.03.28 #1, #2)
It just occurred to me today that tiredness and sadness feel (almost???) identical to me.