Honeyed streaks stream through my window curtains and find me trying to adjust to the beginning of the week mode. The weekend was spent at home with the brood which means that the fridge is empty and that errands are waiting.
Fresh mornings spill into the timelines and
The boiling kettle won't quiet down
Until everyone in the house is warmed up.
The receding ghosts of yesterday
Are dying in the background of a new day
Willing to accommodate a tired soul and
The smell of brewing tea
Holds the atmosphere captive.
Mondays...sigh. They heavily tax my social awkwardness and anxiety but still afford to gift me with mild interactions with like-minded beings. Those rare moments easily help silence the noise that effortlessly overruns my mind when I am out there and channel it into healing poetic pieces.
There lives a crippling desire to withdraw
From the experience of being a dysfunctional human
And finally,
Submerge my brainwashed energy
In the unseen shrines of my ink
And allow them to rinse off
The filth this half baked civilisation imposed here
And reconnect it to the ancient ways
Wired deep within.
There exists the urge to get lost in a sea of men
While hidden from the physical eye
Like a spy
To prove that humanity no longer breaths
The same air that burns my lungs down
Every time I forget to breath
For a split second.
The new week is calling and signs of conquering it lie in taking a few moments to reflect and clear the air. Life is full of dissatisfaction and it is so easy to sink into a victimised mindset but any form of art that speaks to my spirit keeps dragging me back to the light.
Poetry awaits. Prose too. The magic of being on my farm awaits. New reads want attention too. The brood needs a present mum. The vastness of crypto research awaits. And so Monday and her blues have to wait in the line.
May kindness shroud you through the coming seven days!馃攩
wambuku w.