I usually run at midnight when sad; something must be keeping me awake. Still and stuffy as tonight was, I came alive with the occasional breeze, perhaps appreciating it more than I would if the day and I were both brighter.
Days have not been good; I fall short every day. In the midst of having and trying to be better/smarter/quicker/more compassionate, I tire and am disheartened. In the midst of falling short of life’s demands, life falls short in the eyes of my fragile soul.
I used to have a formula I found easy and effective – know what you want, figure what you need to do, and do it. Of late, I’m stumped at the first. And where I can distill some objectives, I may not be sure what needs to be done, and whether they are within my abilities. And yet, every moment something needs doing. Sometimes you end up drifting along.
Yet maybe, in the midst of this new reality, may I find strength and goodness that I never had. And in the meantime, may I find repose in the last few hours of the “night”.