It's hard.The lead weight of your thoughts, the irrevocable pull of gravity on your forehead. The fact that someone, somewhere is crying for help and not getting it. I find confused pain to be particularly troubling, whether it's an abused child or the last Siberian tiger pacing a cage.
I don't know where we'd be without Allah, without the assurance of comfort and justice. An entity who is always ready to listen, to share your reality and to forgive or simply understand.
I think I'll go down to the Centro Commercial and buy some chocolate, even if it is only 10:30 am. Still can't get over the fact that some horrid little biting insects could have anything to do with a Cadbury bar.
I realize this post is disjointed... witness the clunky workings of the morning mind before caffeine and sans editing.
1 comment:
The morning is when you are at your poetic best, stripped of censorship and editorial chatter. Was the chocolate good? A perfect morning pick-me-up.
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