Under closed eyes

 

 

 

“The self is not enough.
But that’s all we’ve got.”

Said a voice
across
my dream.

 

Yet I sensed a
small bright
glow

emerge
within.

 

As if some light
had already
opened

the tick
of a tiny
flower.

 

Split from
its negative

through darkness.

 

 

Under

these

still-closed

eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

(Above is a poem from when I was aged 20.
Inspired by things glimpsed during semi-conscious states.)

 

Creating verse seems beyond me, at present.

The flu, with its fevers and headaches, has eased.
But post-viral depression lingers on.

Viewing the current lockdown, from the perspective of someone
isolated by chronic illness (mainly housebound and alone) for over 30 years:
it feels rather strange to see so many people now
struggling to cope with a slightly similar situation.

If symptoms improved, restless urges for social life would also trouble me.

As fate turned-out, the chances for love, friends, or normality, faded long ago.

Of course, current restrictions could, shortly, be lifted.
While my own health problems remain incurable.

 

I thought of writing a post about dealing with solitude.

Though I worry this blog’s reach is too small, and my circumstances too unusual,
for helping others.

 

Comments are always VERY welcome! 🙏

 

Hope everybody is well?

Have you spent more time online?

(I’ve found lots of interesting new blogs in the last few weeks.)

 

 

Thanks for reading! 🙂

 

 

(Art on this site is mine.)

---

( anxiety / art / beauty / blog / blogging / depression / life / mental health / poem / poems / poetry / reading / writing )

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