Friday, November 9, 2012

postpartum

There is a time and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die

one year ago, these words meant nothing to me

 ---

when my dad passed away, I felt some pressure / saw a need for me to step up and take certain matters into my own hands - but then I got carried away and started taking things that weren't mine to take. These unnecessary burdens made me a miserable person - a resentful tenant who distrusts his housemates to do the dishes - but once I gave them back, I found some peace

---

a clanging cymbal, a resounding gong
He quiets the storm; the tempest is gone

No comments:

Post a Comment

yeah, right