A quandary: When I am at my most anxiously neurotic is when I am least likely to do something crazy and/or stupid. But when I am feeling particularly comfortable and enthusiastic, then… then I am more than ever likely to do something crazy and/or brilliant and/or stupid. Rational analysis suggests, perhaps, that I ought to work on being less neurotic whilst not doing anything stupid. On the other hand, my particular philosophy of life encourages attempted brilliance. So… well, the real trouble is working out the fine line between brilliant and stupid beforehand. I think it’s a given that anything I do will be crazy, after all.

Ah, well. Though I have no idea what I am doing, I am assured that I know why I’m doing it.

And seeing as I keep self-identifying as a poet, I really ought to start putting some out there. Although the ratio between total poetry and completed, presentable poetry keeps increasing in an alarming fashion. And so, since I’m not in the mood for rational commentary today:

Another Misty Morning
It is another misty morning as I write this
Another grey uncertainty of dawn
Another weary tumble into lightness
That the clouds will not surrender to for long

There is another well-worn circle in my head now
Another quiet journey in the dark
Another wordless mystery my heart bows
Forever aimless firing at no mark.

It is another silent pensive cloud that greets me,
Assures me I have written this before
And another mental struggle now defeats me,
Assures me that I cannot win the war.

And yet another far-off birdsong lifts me
And echoes with a half-forgot refrain
Another feeble sunrise makes new morning
And nothing stands forever quite the same.