been working on a poem about one’s own weather. unfortunately, the poem does not want to be finished, and thus i cannot post it anywhere.
what came to my mind was this: there are people who make their own weather. they do not react to someone else’s. theirs is the sunshine, and the rain, and the mud, and the snow, and the fair sky.
and sometimes, it is much honour to be near one of those. just for the observation.
just like building an aquarium is a test of god-skills in a tiny fish world.