It is the tragedy of life
That our self esteem is a wandering thing
We think it firmly locked within
And yet it sneaks out in the dead of night
Tracks away into town
Following the lights
And music
When morning comes, we wake bereft
Wondering
At the small shreds that are left tuckered out and torn
Snoring
And then someone says
“Oh this wonderful this thing you have done!”
And radiance bursts over the skin
And self esteem awakes and wanders back in
Filling all the hollow places with warmth again
And you think
If I could just contain it this time
Within
But you can’t
Not while it relies
On another’s opinion
Because
One night will come
Off it goes again
Into town
Through the fields
Seeking the tonic
Of another’s advice
And more mornings will find
It gone
And your self alone
Waiting
For it to come home
*I don’t know what the cure is but I know there is one
When I stand aside and do my work
Whatever that is
And no matter how great I feel about it
I know this fault line still hides beneath the facade of every creative being
It probably always will
What to do?
Nothin except
Accept
And keep working
Knowing
It will forever be a duality
Of feeling
*And emotions are nothing but vibrations that move through us at any given moment. Some uncomfortable, some quite divine – knowing they are simply the constructs of the mind doesn’t make them any less difficult to feel
But it does make them feel less real
Transitory
Breathe and keep to your craft
The rest will sort itself out in a couple of hours
Weeks
Don’t stand there searching
Waiting and feeling lost
It always comes home
Let it be
