Some Prophecies Are Written In The Past Tense; It Was Always Going To Have Happened. I Write Prophecy

And when the night falls, and darkness lays beside me, I don't want to fall in love, I want to be in your arms and forgotten as the mist touches the hills...................

everytimeyousaygoodbye ©

The days are spent in glory and sun

until rain casts its violent shadow;

a storm to herald a setting moon

and bring life again, glory again --

                                  -- it will be here soon

J.R.R. Tolkien, from The Return of the King

I was diagnosed with dyspraxia. A lot of people know it as the “clumsy disorder” but it’s a lot more and I think it has a lot to do with my speech.

It’s more then just the “clumsy disorder”. I’m more then clumsy. I have weak core muscles, I’m weak, I’m uncoordinated, I’m constantly running into things, I can’t grip a fork right, I spill food and get it all over myself

Yes, I’m clumsy, I drop things, spill things, etc. But it’s more then that. It affects me greatly and I think when people mark it just as “being clumsy” they are undermining a disorder that affects people greatly.

With my speech, I talk in a monotone, which is easier for me. I talk in simplified language and don’t use big words. I slur and stutter my words aswell,

I just realized this when I was talking about dyspraxia and I thought it’d be important to discuss.

I am more a fool for thinking, wiser for feeling, as if my head had ever the chance of hiding this from me 

Waking up to a thousand songs

each hour, they chime and sing,

I knew they would never sing again 

if there was no new day to bring

.

They mark the time with beak and wing

its slow passing now my desire;

forever bound to their floating song, 

forever bound to their charming fire

I'd prefer to sit awhile

waiting for the storm to come

the heavens rush and clamour and sing

but the rain is kept hidden

beneath the canopy of this weeping willow tree

“Forgive me if I don’t talk much at times. It’s loud enough in my head.”

— Unknown

What joy can be felt today? Frozen yet

In feigned sensibility, I ask myself...

Tuesday, 28th September 2021

My reality is shaped in colours; a painting blurred in depths of hues, brushed by a wandering silence.