A Meditation.

A poem.

The enemy is at the gates but no one is sure where the gates are or who the enemies will be. The rain falls and drips from the edge of the gutter that has needed sealing for at least three years. Everything is wet but the enemies aren’t really here, they’re just in our heads or at least I hope so. Coffee might help but it also might just lead to a heightened state of awareness and, hoo boy, no one wants that.

Once we realized all of our problems were the result of caring too much, things got worse.