Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Chains of Thought
Today was one of those days. When I got home I couldn't stop wanting to cry. Just how many chains from my past must I break to live in the present? When can I stop living in the future plagued by the past? I think too much. I know this, but somehow it's not something I can really stop that easily. It's not thinking that's the problem; it's the way the thoughts build themselves. Mine tend to build themselves in chains. I keep learning, and struggling, and freeing myself of a few at a time; it's getting to be exhausting. Five years is a long time. And I keep tripping over the broken pieces on the floor, like an idiot. Chained, like a beast. There's always another story. There's always another reality. There's always another perception. Just waiting to break open. Just waiting to shatter. So tired.
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Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
ReplyDeleteWith a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it.
And is isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there--that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight and why?
And though you be done to death, what then?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only, how did you die?
--How Did You Die; by Edmund Vance Cooke
hey, thanks.
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