It is a weight, not heavy, just 50gr but I thought about what weighs and what springs again even though it was cut down (the mint) and somehow the mint met with the shadow of the weight. Trying to see something everyday in the humble or otherwise.
Living grows round us like a skin, to shut away the outer desolation
For if we clearly mark the furthest deep, we should be dead long years before the grave
But turning around within the homely shell of worry, discontent and narrow joy, we grow and flourish and rarely see the outside dark that would confound our eyes
Some break the shell
I think that they are those who push their fingers through the brittle walls and make a hole
And through this cruel slit they stare out across the cinders of the world with naked eyes
They look both out and in Knowing themselves and too much else besides
