Tussen elf en twaalf.

Gevangen in het laatste uur van de dag,
wacht ik op mijn straf, mijn bezoek,
de stemmen van jaren geleden.

Geesten van de dames en heren,
die, wellicht ongewild en onbewust,
mijn nachtrust zullen bezweren.

En alleen na hun gezang en geklaag,
over stommiteiten verjaard en begaan,
Laat ik los, en vlucht in dove slaap.

Lesson learned.

Conversing with another person, another human being, is the most complex of actions. A trick I will never quite master, my only hope is to accomplish it without inflicting too much embarrassment. Yet, on those occasions it does work out well, it is a magnificent experience, inducing a euphoric state not less than any other drug I've tried. To peek, through the prism of language, into the soul of another person, is worth the building of trust that usually precedes it. And reflected to you your own humanity, laid bare in its most fragile form. Naked and vulnerable, without veiled secrets.

And then, you find out that nothing comes without a price.

The sea is crawling up the beach,
eating, feeding on nuances and doubts,
until what remains is but water and clouds.

Clear and poised with purpose,
Centered around a conviction,
Creates thought with precision.

Even if more considerate hesitation,
would provide more than a small insight,
It wouldn't stop this rising tide.