Dream Life

                                      you are not a bad person but there were some things that broke you. and sometimes a broken spirit does things that even they, themselves do not quite understand. like hurt the ones they love the most. like build walls. like pretend that they do not care when inside they are quietly weeping. i know. you have seen the depths of some terrible places. things that took every ounce of peace from your body and sacrificed it at the altar of survival. but you have known soft  breezes too. the ones that whispered their silences into nape of your neck and told you not let go. there is still breath in your lungs and a fire that's burning. hold on to that glow. hold on.

                                                                                   the economics of letting go lately i've been thinking about physical things and emotional things: everything i have to carry. i feel burdened with memories. and the way i will hold on to an item or thought just in case it will be of significance later. i rehearse lines from a conversation had. memories. i never let anything gather dust. because we never know if things are going to be of more or less value in the future. but lately i have stopped agonising over the economics of letting go. i am telling myself it is okay to forgot. i am making room for better things. like light. like nothing at all.

  If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream- and not make dreams your master; If you can think- and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and -toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn ...