There are days when I feel strong and confident and feel brave about life and future. But often these days, I feel vulnerable. Something tugs at my heart. I feel like running away from myself, this is that shadow self.

Dead of night. The stalker strikes again;
sleep stolen, warped in worry, I cringe
at the prospect of facing the sun, soon-
O Night, dear, dont stop your song yet:
sombre though it is, there's something
comforting about it, alone in this darkness
as I catch it trickling through the wind;

Soon the day will dawn and I will have to
sleepwalk through these places known
meet people known and start back on
tasks yet undone. Everything, everyone,
is familiar, yet so distant and mysterious,
this vast canvas of life seems mist-filled:
dull, damp, cold; nothing, heartwarming;

People whom I will love and who will
love me, I can't meet. Work that I love
I can't do. The life that I dream of,
I can't live. I'm a prisoner of my own
doing; I have shut and chained myself
in this dungeon; Dont stop, Night, sing!
lull me to sleep, like there's no tomoorrow.

When will these days pass? and its already winter in London. if summer feels so terrible, Good Heavens cheer me in winter..

Many thoughts come, pass by, inspiration comes and passes by, I havent recorded any. I thought I must do blogging at particular times, but I find that I cannot force inspiring moments to arrive at those times. So maybe I should get back to what I was doing before- get here and write even if this is at work.