I have lived a good life because I say I have.
You could walk on glass for these people and they would ask you to take your shoes and socks off.
Feeling you beside me, your weight balancing the world.
My love for you is unconditional, my relationship with you is not.
The poetry exists in ignorance of my musings.
It clings to the crevices of life
in the nooks of idle minds and stolen glances of would-be lovers.
It does not care if I write,
though, I know that I must.
If it seems complicated,
Isn’t that simple enough?
Death before us, life upon us.
From a person imprisoned or sheltered within their mind arise pathologies not explored by those who take benevolent residence instead.
It may be legend, or perhaps fact, Ernest Hemingway is said to have been challenged to write a story in six words. Now, a popular practice in academia and in casual on a so-titled subreddit.
The end of the year is festive, whether you actively participate or, like me, soak in the air of optimism and exuberance – either way, good for reflection. I challenge my readers, if you’d like, to write your own six words about your year. Here’s something thoughtful about mine:
In media res, late or lucky?
All the best,
Better to suffer adversity and meet self-actualization than to seek comfort in quiet mediocrity.