...dear diary, time has stitched seconds to bring the living to the beginning of the end of a dying year and her fading days are carrying every question that men usually have for their inner beings when they feel the need to compare themselves to those they presume are doing much better than them.
...and like every other soul finding itself demanding answers from itself, I am lost in the myriad of what I am now thinking I would have done better with the memories I have made in the last eleven months. It is like the past feels safer whilst the blankness of an unknown future seems enough enticing to explore.
...but then everything is a construct of our limitedness to the vastness of the experience life is all about which is why we cling to memories as they trigger familiar warmth which in time turns such into deadly comfort zones.
...during my time away from the spill of my ink, I planted some strawberries and succulents. The strawberries were a gift from a fellow farmer and the succulents came from my old man's resting spot.
...the farm probably misses my touch but inflation keeps fueling my budget so the need to concentrate on what is feeding the brood and keeping the unstable financial walls from coming crashing down has been primal.
...and so the mechanical parts of my diversified personality have been running affairs as my poet took endless strolls in her clogged mind to ease the pressure of her ever-spilling words. Oh, and how draining it can be to stand in the way of these reflections.
...change is starting to make my space home and the rigidity of being used to routines might be rioting but some parts of me appreciate the unpredictability of everything, especially my emotions.
...music has kept me company as I let my bones feel everything they have wanted to feel. Poetry has held me together all through and I can't explain the comfort I find in reading something I can relate to melancholically or otherwise.
...anyway, it is good to sing with my fingers again. Hopefully, the last month of the year shines through everything that has felt like a shadow for you and me. Happy holidays.
wambuku w.
