Oh to trust oneself absolutely! I know I cannot. One’s feelings and thoughts flare up like a flame - burn bright and intense until the wind changes and steals strength from its duration…
Time and circumstance play castrator. I believed I had made peace with Time. We shook hands and met for coffee, agreeing to be kind to one another. Or, am I mistaking Time with Grief? Time has many minions, one need be aware of all the shadows lurking behind the curtain – They can steal the soul if one isn’t careful…
Ah, but I have chosen my armour carefully and stand erect in a veiled sheet of translucent, thin steel, specially designed by mischievous, smart, feminist fairies with names like “Butch” and “Sundance” and “Thelma” and “Louise” . What them or I won’t readily offer up is the secret no longer a secret that my armour is really the finest cotton and merely tricks the eye and brain into thinking it is A N Y defense against the fine, subtle, cruelties of the powerful heart…
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