The bad luck raised suspicions, on a path that was beat down.

No one dared to look within or see the wise men in the town.

It was happening for eons, as long as Grandad could recall.

Like a dark foreboding plank walk or a dream in which you fall.

Until the child spoke her words that, “Maybe somethings wrong with me?”

So we made a meeting with the Doc, down at the Family Psychiatry.

The doctor raised awareness and we all took a look.

Things are looking so good now, might take Grandma off the hook.

Now life is far from perfect however the family’s not so sad.

Looking in the mirror, not blaming blind luck, good or bad.

Have I gone too far? Maybe, not far enough. Am I too critical of the human condition? Should I remove all restrictions and say how I really feel?

Severely critical? Are you seriously considering such a definition in this age of sensitivity?

Questions deserve answers until they don’t.

Is it sometimes better to just keep things to yourself? Rarely.

Definitely.

I was breathing in contentment.

Spirits hovered in the mist.

Like a heavy fog just fades away.

In bright light, something missed.

Gall heaped high at breakfast.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Contentment left with harmony.

I can hear dark thunders roar.

The opportunity to know certain people who are a pleasure to be with doesn’t happen often, and when it happens, it is beyond the beyonds. However, it does happen, and when it does…

We must learn to say goodbye.

Perhaps without all those tears and blubbering!

Just concentrate on what a pleasure it was and is to be in the presence of THIS!

Sipping tea on a Saturday.

All day, morning, afternoon.

At midnight, I’m a senior.

This growing old has come so soon.

I thought I’d die much younger.

I was wrong, guess I am blessed.

Don’t know why time does fly.

I’m so guilty. There; I’ve confessed.

Everyone is cheating.

Except for you and me…

Options here? Slim and none.

Really, none that I can see.

The dreamers left the highlands.

Rumors are they’re coming back.

To the hope of honest smiles.

Where good story fades to black.

I was lost last night in forests.

Traveled far and deep with you.

There was peace and not much cheating.

Then I woke. That’s what I do.

I was weak with sweats and dreaming.

In a fever wretched with guilt.

No one spoke or shared a thought.

Not a whisper, and silence built.

I was swimming in a blue zone.

Dark hues spun and mixed with grays.

The smell of fear filled our lungs.

Not one thought of brighter days.

Here it is, soon Christmas Eve.

First year without a tree.

The world didn’t end, and I’m still here.

So many things are still to be.

Marcus wrote, ‘When you arise in the morning think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive-to breathe, to think, to enjoy and to love. ‘

Now there’s a meditation.

It might be important to note that Mr Aurelius was the last of what was considered to be in Rome…

‘The 5 Good Emporers. ‘ A period of about 200 years that ended in 180 A.D.

Marcus was also a Stoic Philosopher.

All is quiet here at mid-day.

Had my fill of sleep and dreams.

The plot was holding true to form.

Not a thing is as it seems.

We all smile for masks and photos…

Except the ones who care no more.

They stand screaming in the shadows.

Outside the corner coffee store.

The poverty is crippling.

The addictions sing and dance.

Me, I’m with my baby.

Keeping quiet, Second Chance.