Sometimes when hurt and loss and anxieties come at you “thick and
fast” – you hear those long-remembered voices of despair [“not to be born is
the most to be desired”]. Or words of accusation [“As flies to wanton boys are
we to the gods they kill us for their sport”]. Or philosophy’s doubts about
ultimate meaning: [“There may be no deep structure”]. ---- And yet sometimes
a feeling, a focus, a desire emerges and you turn inwards to your own settled
practice for survival and fulfilment. And you begin again - I write a poem; I
listen to the silence; I sense the peace, oneness, happiness, joy, ordinary-
ecstasy; I do know that ‘sometimes’ meditative-focus is realized [prose poem
‘Sometimes’].