My mental state seems to reflect the sadness,
world-weariness and despair of the murderer
in the Agatha Christie book Nemesis, instead
of the quiet contentment & acuity in dear Miss
Marple’s thought processes – why would this
be, why this when I haven’t committed a crime,
why not content with being a non-entity when
my mother of 84 can still find interest in life &
music, singing and friends?
Maybe being a hermit’s not such a good thing,
yet changing the habits of a life-time seems
impossible: meditation and reading have to be
enough in this sedentary life and when health
returns as it always does, life plain and simple
must suffice while finding things I’d like to do -
today, alas, is grey and meaningless and thus
I long for chocolate and dream of adrenaline
which can only result from
Challenges: I wish I could change myself, be-
come a happy person simply content to be
and breathe…
[Monday 7 May 2018]
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