25 january

but hard to tell how well we make our own moves when the home truths sweeten their feet faster to the less fortunate angles and we grow tangled in our misgivings without forgiving ourselves or testing the shelves to see how much more they can carry -- while i'm buried in treasure of any immeasurable quantity the glass is neither full nor empty and i've plenty of measurements to prove i'm losing count: the right amount to be about without the long wrong begotten carols being sung and the orchestra has gone and all the bells have rung straight out --