92/2023

We think the dead have it easy
When they’re gone, never think
About the jungle of the afterlife
In which they have to find their
Way, the madness of heaven,
The desert of hell, assume that
For them all this is over, no
Troubles left now the every
Day is over for them.
Sometimes we look forward
To those days of rest
Misguided as we are, and
Tired and sad and empty,
And grieving. Walk past any
House with open curtains
And taste its emptiness.

R 02/04/2023 18:39

Toying with ideas today. And thought I’d work today, because M is working all weekend. But the morning slipped by with rest and comfort and Radio Stradbroke tasks. A long walk this afternoon in the sun and the biting wind, and more ideas came to me, and the thought that perhaps the race is run, with the writing, that when Aggie‘s done (am now halfway through the pages with the edit) I’ll stop because it’s been a battle without real success on any level. But the sun changed my mind, temporarily at least, because where else will the ideas go if not on to pages of one sort or another? And the effect may not, will not, be limited to my life time. And I walked past very many houses with open curtains, and many with closed ones, too.