Been very much off my writing game lately, especially my poetry. Steadily getting back into the swing of things. Today, this poem just came spilling out. Cringing at my misspelling of the word forest. I actually spelled it right the first time, then the second time my brain malfunctioned and I ended up going back to “correct” myself. Bleh. Anyway, onward!
I had a conversation last night about the way we change. How sometimes we are not stretched but instead compressed. It made me think of swords, how they are forged, how they function, and what their purpose is. We as human beings are in a never ending war against entropy. Like swords, we must be forged to become strong enough to fight back, and also like swords, we are only dangerous when we are moving.
The Purpose of the Blade
It’s so hard to get traction again once you’ve lost it. Here’s to picking ourselves up, learning from our falls, and pushing forward.
Sometimes we get down. Not in the fun way. Sometimes we start out strong, a few things don’t go our way, and we crash.
My bride reminded me of a secret I learned a little while ago–that smiling tricks the body, the voice, and the mind. By projecting happiness into the world, we take it back in. Our spirits are fascinating engines capable of producing our own fuel.