I boxed up some of the things I wrote during the pandemic and added an introduction.
It annoys me a little that I didn't feel able and still don't feel able, to craft some of these words into something more resembling poetry. I know poetry is more than the careful selection and positioning of words, more than rhyming, which can either seem to validate otherwise discarded thoughts, or give perhaps a false impression that the chosen words fit perfectly and are therefore true. I feel it's in the rhythm of writing that truth is carried and the sometimes stilted rhythms of my own thoughts reflect the fact that I haven't yet resolved my feelings.
These memories are yet to be processed fully.
The almost invisible words in yellow read ' washed with the rain of our tears '
and perhaps this rather cloying phrase does nearly accurately express something about how I felt and still
feel about that terrible time.
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Littered with mistakes and annoying repetitions, If I write another, it will be different and not a correction
This last one is clearly unfinished since I have not written about Love's role within Time.
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