Give yourself permission to let go and to hold on tight;
Astute meditation, revolving might.
Every pulse an echo of the constant fight,
To balance the inner darkness and light.

We usually say "step into the light"
when there's nothing but night
but do we say "step into the night"
when the light is so bright that it
not only blinds but burns out our eyes?

When extremist's play their games
to blind our sensitive eyes
it doesn't matter if they're
using darkness or light.

It's all the same if you're snowblind
or just left alone in the dark.
whether it's viral or bacterial 
it's still an infection.

Feeling our way in the heavy black
air – too thick to breathe.
fumbling around in the light
gray
air -- too thin to breathe.

Caught in the loop of groping the walls of our minds in twilight,
struggling to refocus in moonlight,
then so exhausted by daybreak
that we sleep it all off until dusk.

Too much darkness
Too much light
Too much cold
Too much heat
Too much pleasure
Too much pain
Too much sunshine
Too much rain
You can have too little
or too much of anything.

Regain control, as a captain taming the sea,
Steering through storms towards serenity.
This tempest, fierce and wild, shall let loose its hold,
Releasing you from chains, stories untold.
And winds subside, and skies unfold,
Know that within your spirit, courage takes hold.

A shadow lingers, heavy and cold,
Never a story of joy retold.
Tablets lined in a fragile row,
In their silence, what do they know?
Dreams dissolve in a bitter hue,
Emotions dulled, both false and true.
Promises whispered: "You’ll feel whole,"
Relief bottled, sold to the soul.
Every smile feels borrowed, thin,
Shaky hands hide storms within.
Still, we swallow, day by day,
A search for light in skies of gray.
No cure, just balance, a fragile dance,
To numb the ache, one last chance.

Stay close dear soul, in this tempest’s gale,
Where shadows threaten to unravel and assail.
Don’t walk away, for within our shared breath,
Lies the tether that keeps us from the edge of death.
When separation looms, life turns grey,
A canvas devoid of hues, where dreams sway.
No longer peaceful, but dark as the night,
The stars obscured, hopes fragile light.
Unbalanced and unhinged, thoughts collide,
A maelstrom within, where sanity hides.
Yet fear not, for within chaos, strength is found,
And clarity emerges from the tempest’s sound.
Manipulate yourself, weave threads anew,
Craft resilience from fragments, bold and true.
Regain control, as a captain taming the sea,
Steering through storms towards serenity.
This tempest, fierce and wild, shall let loose its hold,
Releasing you from chains, stories untold.
And winds subside, and skies unfold,
Know that within your spirit, courage takes hold.

As I am affronted
the response is
to the simple.
It burrows in corners
and hides in creases,
residing in the cutest of dimples.
Body derelict like a crumbling temple.

This thing is evil-
or I am for sure.
One thing is true
drop the others to the floor.
A black and white,
grey on holiday.
A swinging shape I'm
sure will manifest
into a sword one day.

And it's coming for me.
There's no other device.
No time for this guy to be
approachable, no time for
this guy to be nice.
I'm fighting for my life,
but I can reason with the knife.
It doesn't have to make sense,
I've just had it up to the temple tonight.

And I ask it how it came here,
what it wants to protect.
I thank it for its service but
I can't seem to connect.
This situation doesn't look
like a lion on my tail.
I stomp my feet and flail my
arms inside this inflated hell.

I name it and it laughs at me,
it's name is not a word.
It's known by screams
and pleas for mercy
like nothing you've ever heard.
Its job is to overwhelm
me with life and concepts long interred.
A fear that's hidden deep behind
an obvious thing like hate.
I approach ad infinitum,
to make this devil meditate.

A hundred and eight prayer beads.
A mantra to stand and fight.
A weapon of intent,
of magical will;
A word of power and light.
Just get me through this night-

Our feelings aren't based in logic.
We use tools on a budget.
Report the numbers and don't fudge it.
Be honest with the others,
Be honest with the self.

Burn the dross with
steady heat.
Constant regulation
under furnace's feet.
Not too hot,
not too cold.
Steadily discover
the Goldilocks zone.

There's a blackening,
then the white-
before red comes
into play.
And there we find
the malleability
we seek for
every day.

They say to maintain emotional balance, we need three positives for every negative.

Anatomy taught me that two-thirds of the heart's mass sits on the left side of your chest.
Since then, I began to imagine that negative emotions gather on that side.
And when the positive falls short, and the scale tips too far, the weight becomes physical.
I named this feeling 'lopsided sad' — when the heaviness tugs at my ribs, pulling one side of me toward the ground, as if half of my body is anchored to the earth.

Why do I keep collecting more baggage than I can carry, clutching it all in one hand?

I've been counting my blessings since that day, in an attempt to restore balance.
With desperation, I listed everything that is good,
every little thing that counts;
word by word, letter by letter,
I collect each one like pennies,
wishing that every line and curve that forms them
would suffice to outweigh the bad.

Three for one.
The equation has been flawed from the start,
three sparks just to dull the dark.
Maybe this is how we're meant to walk the earth—
always leaning on one side, never upright