A (wise) man of two faces

Kata

Breath, step, root, and strike – over and over again. It’s a way to strength.

The sun, moon, the stars, and all things beautiful pale before the “one thing”.

The morning fog clears, leaving a gray afternoon like all the others.

The morning fog clears leaving a gray afternoon like all the others.

The gray skies outside – I can feel their weight. Strangely it’s not a burden.

Pulled under the sea, reaching for a purchase by grasping at the moon.

Frustration, loss, hope, and confusion observed while “empty” hours pass.

Chomping at the bit, stamping hooves, whinnying, and shaking the bridle.

Creaking and moaning, advancing a finger’s breadth: idly maddening.

“An apple a day” is a cure for what ails you? I prefer sick days.