the art of change is hard to master.
there's a poem, that goes like this:
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
but the art of changing is hard to master. for one to aspire to change is one thing, but to act on it is another. and to keep your word, is yet another. the art of change is hard to muster. when something digs so deep that you crave it, it is a nuisance. and the hate that fuels it, a foe on its own. the art of losing things, however, is not hard to master.
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Captains Log
No Ficciónlife through the eyes of someone who has so much to say, but isn't sure of how to say it.
