The fire glowed in its meagre little way, more an ember than a flame, and by its light I wrote the words; my wild thoughts there tried to tame. What came out, half serious, half joke, the point’s there all the same, that all of life is something like a game, a surface tension I cannot name between what is and is our aim.
How vague what is yet stark when something’s not,
a revelation from the shadows fought.
One must take lightness with full gravity
and raise oneself to low humility.
Through hay-fever’s curse
purple blossoms by the road
I see, thanking God.
Tale Told 