A writer's obsession for consistency of vision,
Is a curse on their honest living character too.
These are divisive and complex times to live in,Â
And that produced a complexity of unique minds.
And yet, within my balancing soul I can say, though coldness is often the state way to play,
It’s hard to imagine my way without its chilly functions reminding me I’m still very warm.
It is my wettest day’s blanket I fracture onto,Â
The nanny watching me so I don’t burn you,
And a shielding hand to allow living narratives.
Sometimes it takes a big ol' crow,
Swooping around our eyes,
Cackling at our nightmares,
Laughing at our ruminations,
And trickstering our obsessions,
To bring us toward daylight within.
So when you hear the crow call overhead,
Remember to forget your obsessions for a moment,
And let yourself smile slightly, to find mindful flow again.
Fear is repetition of mind.
Flow is feeling into mind.
And the crow's caw is now your reminder.