Whispered Wanderings

My thoughts match the cold of the freezing rain
tiny little hammers assaulting windowpane
much as my thoughts assault my brain.
But where am I to go with this sad refrain?
Why should good ever come from pain,
if it also brings with it a touch of disdain?
Indeed, where lies the strength to refrain,
from the ever-present need to explain?
Too many questions. I may be insane;
But sanity is something I cannot ordain.

klm
3/7/24

Whose Mind Indeed?

Whose mind is this, that thinks this way,
just letting day roll into day
without attempting to affect
or even have a little say?

I must admit, I do suspect
(or else suffer from disconnect)
that mind just might be mine, you see:
it lacks a proper architect!

The joy I find in poetry
is all I need to keep me free;
of that excessive worrying,
that never used to let me be.

klm
3/7/24