Monday, 16 March 2020

Born to tell a better story


Airing the mind in the wind
Some days come as if they will end with nothing really done, a spirit of despair hovering like a cloud, ready to settle on you like the morning dew that will not dissipate of the heat of the day does not come soon enough.
In the midst of this, you must find a hold, the grasp that you have reached for not to be drenched with the acid rain of discomfiture because some niggling thought suggests you are running out of ideas. I must trust that I can find inspiration in the unconventional, that sudden lighting up in the mind that is so original, it spurs and yields the unexpected.
The walls of circumstance finding they obey the laws of gravity seek to cave in, a virus unseen like the wind we do not see, but its effects too consequential to ignore. Such that I sequester myself in the hermit’s abode, for the tools to fight that battle are not as weaponised as those many others can find to defeat a marauding enemy.
I have a light that shines from within me, that the dark can try but never succeed in overwhelming me. From a source that neither affliction nor adversity can touch, I rise unbound to always tell another and better story.

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