Goosebumps, goosebumps everywhere. I admire how from this dark cloud over your head, Robbin have found love and strength and you have found inspiration. I know you have always wrote those touching poems, but ever since your bird's situation escalated and you have brought your work to a different level. She must be so proud of your poems. I am proud! I was moved with your revelation that you contemplate death, how hard it is to have nothing but dark thought dominating your mind, with nothing breaking that barrier but the joy and warmth which you feel with her laughter. How touching.
Indeed being open and on good terms with reality is the purest form of living. Your closing line is a masterpiece my dear, dear friend. Thank you for sharing.
"My bones talk at night, and the Moon listens."
Maybe because you both are from the same substance.
"Being open about the darkness that
plagues me is the purest form of living-"
Now it seems that you've found it. No one ever could get there by herself. Unfortunately only pure pain could bring up on's purity to this high. (Life-Natur seems to be such a stringent bargainer. ) And it is true because the purest truths are always found in darkness.
Believe me, I have seen it. I have seen people who do not shine outward, who shine in their bones!!
They tip when no one looks, sacrifice when no one sees to prase. And on the other hand, they forgive ones who hurt them to the bone, after when the incubuses are in their disposal in absolute darkness where they can get away with everything and none would ever notice either their vices or their virtues.