synopposites

When I get down
I want to give up

I don't look forward
To going back

Where everything
Means nothing

When I look within
What am I without

Don't want to be first
But will that last

The moon is full
But I am empty

My heart is heavy
In the bright light

The wait is not over
In the weight I'm under

The Season of Storms

Here in the Pacific Northwet we have a lot of storms in the springtime. We've had a particularly spectacular bunch of squalls move through these past few days. I love storms, mostly. I love to see them coming, I love to stand in the pouring rain and awe at the spectacle, I love to see the sun break back through and shine it's brilliant contrast against the dark clouds as they exit the scene. All these things I love in the realm of nature. Not so much in the realm of living. In the realm of living it seems like I never see them coming, the rain is pointy and sharp and rarely leaves me in awe, but rather, in pain. Nevertheless, I welcome the the coming contrast of sunshine on the exiting clouds. Henceforth, I shall consider the spectacle worthy of awe-me, standing in the brilliant shine with no clouds on the horizon.

I almost wrote a new entry tonight.


Wait...I just did.