Mess of Threads

Poem

Hammering inside the head,
No big things, just a mess of threads.
I dare not underestimate them—
Like a stubborn child,
Crying, hauling all the time.
I wonder how they manage…
A short nap gives them life.

Poem

As I go deep,
Intensity fills each thought and conflict,
Yet in observation, there’s a quiet shift.
Everything grips me strongly,
But soon, it slips away.
I embrace the experience.

Poem

Fall and arise… fall and arise.
Beating oneself has point.
Trying is the goal itself, until the last breath.
With no other option, I keep trying.

Poem

One restless action gives birth to many more,
A living hell,
Better to sit in silent discomfort,
Than to speak in vain – and lose yourself as well.