The sky was bright today... but I feel worn. Long hours of work this morning, a little rest, and then a lot of singing this afternoon.
There aren't enough hours in the day for all the things I want to do. Especially when I choose to do exciting things when perhaps I should rest, and choose to rest when perhaps I should clean. But I figure, it will even itself out in the end.
One day and then the next. Work, paychecks, coffee and chicken-noodle-soup. Friends, hugs, conversation and dreams.
Fighting to bring dreams into reality.
Clearing the mind even of the good fillers, in order to rest and shavasana.
Giving up what we cannot keep to gain what we cannot lose.
And then doing it again tomorrow.
"do not go gentle into that good night. rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Dylan Thomas
Welcome to the online picnic-spot for my sporadic writings and endless tea drinking.
In lieu of trying to belong to any number of societies: Chesterton, Sherlock Holmes, the Inklings, and so on: I propose and establish one of my own. Don your intelligence cap at the door; dust off your logic and imagination; did you bring your inspiration and encouragement? We are shapers, my friends; lit lamps; light-bringers. Bring quotes; poetry should be uplifting and thoughtful, or witty and clever, (or both). Humor is encouraged; laughter is invited back. Pull up a chair. Anyone for tea?
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