Iron Sharpens Iron?
The merits of mere stasis we extol / As if the middle ground’s a magic tool / Why seek to steer what moves beyond control? / We try to hold it still, then watch it roll…
Sometimes there’s no light
One washes over One to More; He got more wet… or did She?
Even in darkness / The traveled path / Is marked.
…here is where I take issue with how she eventually got to her place of peace. She (mistakenly, in my opinion) allows a diagnosis to become a label. She becomes afraid of her diagnosis because others are afraid of her diagnosis.
When life is good, my poetry gets bad. / Its frequency is at an all time low,