Tomorrow :: prev :: next :: Don't try to catagorise it as low self-esteem That's not what's at issue It's more of a feeling that only a very small part of what I do of how I live my thoughts my existence the hours and hours that pour over the side of the cliff means anything and that the other very large part is just me getting in the way being wrong or hypocritical or prejudiced and surely misguided I'm one point shy of passing the test that gets you into the club of intellectual spiritual relational giants where everything fits every question has an answer and darkness isn't your closest companion Something's missing My heart is homesick It's been that way a long time Where is the dreamer risk-taker wild-eyed romantic passionate warrior I played it safe as a child I'm still a child playing it safe in a grown-up body like a three-year-old trying to walk in his dad's shoes tripping falling bruising breaking calling for help hearing nothing I remember a time a clamour that exposes a pattern approaching the seat of power the halls of the self-assured in false-humility to seek my favour there only to be found empty a brightly wrapped package with nothing inside The cold critical wind from days long gone still blows right through me No amount of scarves or gloves hats or work sweaters or friends can bring any prolonged warmth For in the end we all go home each to our own darkness hang our hats eat our supper fall asleep and wonder if tomorrow will be any different © 2005 (17 november) john r. chase
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