“The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.”
― Nicolas Chamfort
Today, I dipped the virtual pen in ink to write. I began a few poems and stopped mid stanza.
All that flow through me were dark images hidden in the lines, crawling into my consciousness no matter how hard I attempted to dislodge them.
Sometimes, I think sparing you the shadow corners of my mind.
Just don’t send me poems about suicide, a friend asked me once.
I was baffled.
Does any deep-cutting sadness equal suicide? Or does he not want to face death, or is it just voluntary death?
I was fascinated by the fauna at the military camp, the same friend told me.
Battle baffle. Either force of our nature, or don’t tell me about it. It’s unnatural.
Some feelings are better than other feelings.
I choose joy. But dear friend, joy doesn’t always choose me.
Dear head, would you be happy and stay there?
Either feeling. I appreciate whatever gushes out of you. Sensation is a gift.
What am I to do but lie on this river and float away with it.
I won’t tell anyone about it.
What emotions are you feeling the most today?