I blink my eyes, baffled.
What happened to my sword?
Where have I placed my shield?
I swear my words had bite…
How am I to go into battle unarmed?
“What battle?” you ask
This endless parade of day to day
and on I must fight, so I hoist myself up
from this bog of self-doubt and despair,
my stinking thinking.
I gather my thoughts around me; my smelly armor
various tangled musings
traces of my soul.
will they shrink and float away
Or will the phronesis be found
to see past this illusion
of papery fragility
and use our words