Caveat: I sit in my chair

Sorrow

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain
Beats upon my heart.
People twist and scream in pain,—
Dawn will find them still again;
This has neither wax nor wane,
Neither stop nor start.

People dress and go to town;
I sit in my chair.
All my thoughts are slow and brown:
Standing up or sitting down
Little matters, or what gown
Or what shoes I wear.

– Edna St. Vincent Millay (American poet, 1892-1950)

[daily log: walking, 8.5km]

Caveat: Poem #495

sounds
that fail
to form words,
but just spill out
like torrential rain -
at some moments quiet
incoherent murmurings,
but then drumming against the walls,
aggressive, challenging all meanings
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