Everything I know, I know too late. I survive, but it is a barely state. My mind is now so completely confused by stress; everywhere I lose.
Alex said I had cognitive decline, then I did not think it, but now with all my life upended and placed in situations I mistrust, I comprehend it. My thoughts scramble and fry.
Sleep-deprivation takes a great toll on me. Sleep is essential to my mental well-being and here it is often compromised.
There are health issues coming to the fore that I have no idea how I will handle. I see my decline physically as a foregone conclusion.
Creative writing is slipping because my nerves are so consumed by fear.
I just wanted some of this out here. Living in Dallas has been very difficult thus far.
Creativity
It is bound to every soul,
Love never lets go;
However we may survive
Hope keeps our fond dreams alive.
The above is a tanka, a counted-syllable poetic form I often use. The counts are 5-7-5-7-7 syllables. I wrote this one while composing this post.
As a prompt: Try your hand at this form or create something that celebrates Creativity and its link to Love and dreaming.
Please drop a like, comment, or share if you appreciated this post. It helps me know I am doing something worth continuation.
This post was produced on mobile.
May Jesus bless and keep you and yours…
Always,
JoAnn
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