Clarity in Muddied Waters

A Messianic Journey Through Pen and Peace. Writing from the Stillness Within.

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She was a phantom of delight When first she gleam’d upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment’s ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From Maytime and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

Relaxation

The day is an endless assault of division and spelling.

My weary mind slaves away, writing word after word, thinking of answer after answer.

Voices drone on, while I struggle to string together words to form a sentence.

Craning my neck, I look up at the ticking clock that hangs proudly on the white wall.

3, 2, 1..

A dull ring echoes through the building, signalling the end of a hard day.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I drag my feet to the door.

Relaxation, here I come.

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