Used to – A Poem

I got used to the way
The wind in the chimneys
Sounded like ghosts.
You get used to all the things
That scare you
Disappoint you
Hurt you
When they’ve happened
So many times
Yet got no further than
The fright
The disappointment
The pain.

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yesterday – some poems, photos and thoughts.

Seeing a place where I spend all my time from above or the outside, really shows me just how small and insignificant I am. I am just a speck. But if every speck is insignificant and I am a speck in a cluster of insignificances, yet together we are significant…

am I really insignificant at all?

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