I wrote this meditative poetry while holding a lapis lazuli gemstone and looking at the following pictures taken by my father in our backyard. I hope it instills a sense of tranquility.
Where do I start?
I concentrated on my antique lamp, carefully analyzing the dust coating its base. It felt like me, I assumed. I felt like dust clung to me. “Yet it’s brighter than I’ll ever be.”
Everything I had to do that day, and tomorrow, seemed overwhelming. It was hopeless. It was repeated torture.
“Today is the day I do it. I’m really going to.”
I looked out the window—the sun piercing my swollen eyes.