Writing

Empty

Slightly burnt, with crusts a little too thick. 

The last of the butter, evenly spread.

A little sweeter, perhaps? Too bland otherwise. 

Is there anything left in the cupboard? 

Jam, marmite, lemoncurd?

Maybe the marmite. 

Some will hate but others will love. 

They’ll say the taste is too strong. 

Lingers. 

They’ll have their opinions. They’ll say. 

But still they will take, despite their talk. 

And when there’s nothing left, they’ll move onto the next,

leaving nothing but a few crumbs and an empty shelf. 

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Enough

I wonder what you see, 
when I should ask: 
“What do I see?”

I wonder what you think,
when I should ask: 
“What do I think?” 

I wonder whether I am enough, 
when I should say:
“I have always been enough.” 

Street folk

A sharp scream that pierced the night,
echoing through the neighbourhood.
Its owner unknown, hidden amongst the black.
The street folk shifted, sensing something but not wanting to know.
Hands in pockets, gazes cast down, they shuffle forwards.
One more time, louder in the growing darkness.
Quick glance, one foot in front of the other.
Hurry now. Try not to be the last.

Robert M. Pirsig – Zen and the Art of Motorcyle Maintenance 

“This is the source of the trouble. Persons tend to think and feel exclusively in one mode or the other and in doing so tend to misunderstand and underestimate what the other mode is all about. But no one is willing to give up the truth as he sees it, and as far as I know, no one now living has any real reconciliation of these truths or modes. There is no point at which these visions of reality are unified.” 

An update of sorts

So I’m doing a terrible job of keeping this blog updated… once again. 

Do you ever find that you sometimes don’t want to share your thoughts? That you just want to hide away? Or that you have no thoughts to share? That you draw a blank? Or there are so many thoughts you don’t know which to begin with? 

I guess I find it easier to write when I need a way to escape, for relief. But when life is good, I forget to record it as I’m carried away – carried away by living so much that I’m unable to sit still and write down anything worth reading! 

I guess it’s something I need to overcome… distraction, patience, focus. To find the words to record those joyous moments as well as those horrible ones.

As Evelyn Waugh once said: 

The human mind is inspired enough when it comes to inventing horrors; it is when it tries to invent a Heaven that it shows itself cloddish.