They say it’s wise
to pick your battles,
to avoid the conflict
and preserve the peace.
But what of honesty, what of pride
can be preserved in the face of opposition?
There is something to be said in pride –
there is a pride in being honest with the world,
with one’s self.
One cannot sleep in a bed with
dishonesty between the sheets.
So how do I sleep?
My honesty is fuel for embers
ever aglow and smoldering away
the ashes of our final bonds.
Unable to quench the flickering flames,
yet passionate to see them burn,
I stare into oranges and reds –
what you call demon fire,
I call the light of life.
Or maybe what smolders is my image of you,
the beacon of guidance now dwindled away
as I float out into a sea of possibility,
the salt in my hair a testament
to the stubbornness you bred in me,
the hard-headed honesty
which has driven us apart.
A little rant poetry, trying to get a little back into the swing of writing. Debating writing an actual discussion post on this, but not so sure. I’m on fence about whether there is a problem between me and someone, or whether they have put it behind them, and I am dwelling on it wrongfully… We’ll see as time goes on.