Drained leaves ahoy

The last few weeks have been particularly testing, I must say. Particularly so, with the kind of thoughts that have been coming back into the head. The thoughts that I try to quash and avoid as I wake up each day, yet consumed by in hours.

No amount of ignoring, coaxing, or putting up a happy/brave face seems to have helped in the years. Is this a case of me doing it all wrong? Quite possible, one could say.

The years from 2011-2014 had been particularly testing in a way that has been haunting ever since. For someone with not a lot of friends, books and spending time out with myself was the only escape for long.

But, how does one deal, when this becomes a precedent with immature individuals around? That ended up happening, around the troubling period and I had in an utter foolish manner decided to give up. Give up, not on people as I do lately, but on what kept my sanity. After all, I felt it would be selfish, when another uses it as precedent for what's killing them.

Probable that three years weren't much, probable that they were a little too much a stretch. Ends, I have lost the few friends I had given how I kept away from meeting them. Worse, even the practice of taking away on own seems so alien these days. But that's better I guess, given the worst; being in a place where you have none but yourself.

An eerie sense of similarity comes by, for the worst is in place not because I liked it, but because it worked for others. I wouldn't learn for long, but there's something for me to learn about myself, this way.

Dabbled this while thinking about things above, a while back. Thinking of what has happened as the outcome of those fateful years and those that I have been living now. Hope might be what Red says, or what Andy says, but when it does not exist, what remains to say?

--

Smirk the young one's subtle, at showers of praise he had seen;

years have gone by he thought, tiding, vessel now a wreck.

Useful he was all along, alongside the beck that had been;

useless and filled much in sham, his use for them no long a reck.

~

"Nothing had changed," said the master, teapot noiseless around;

swung with when water had heat, drained once it goes on away.

Go forth the tea leaves my dear, uses where people surround;

so should I go on ahead, tending to what's gay and hay.

~

Makes not a master young lad, the path for us winding ahead;

leaves in here go to the pot, to plants and their usage to find.

Rejoicing as always they go, pain's semblance no longer dread;

go forth and make you the same, flourish in your garden, the mind.

~

Stands far away out the young, for his sake I gave up my tea;

his body and tea being oil, and water the two ended being.

I have not a drink for me master, a leaf neither left out to flee;

where do I go on ahead then, the brook here alas has a calling.

~

His smiles gentle more than ever, the master's ways always clever.

Hopes not for stream flowing on, the beauty to watch from the banks;

the leaves and teapot my boy, meant for your knife to sever.

Aside stood the young lad bemused, the master he thought always yanks.

~

Pensive you shan't be young one, they know not the pains of the leaf;

the leaf goes its own path along, to newer its pastures it finds.

It says not a word spent in all, of water and of all her blinds;

it gives all along as it goes, the leaf's life here certain so brief.

~

You would find in all something odd, utopic the thoughts here I say;

your shoes not mine also you may, the young days of mine come afore.

But not there we are neither here, the limbo is ours here to stay;

stride on the wave here my dear, the brook's destination's a shore.