Part of my poetry collection, Margins of the First Draft — where I write more poetry inspired by my old poetry. Poetry is weird, this piece I actually read many times and thought that wow, it's like from a 19th century play or something.
19. Acceptance
But mother,
Can you not see
He makes my heart sing
My fingers dancing on the keys of an old
Dusty
Pianoforte,
Out of tune
And I keep hitting the wrong notes
But my heart hums
And perhaps, I am
A Jester of love
But love
I do
Poetry on the Margins #19 I do
To love is courageous, and to admit it even more so.
To feel —
there's something humanly imperfect, and yet
beautiful, in it.
And to think that we don't choose
who we love —
love just
comes to us —
is one of the most profound spectacles
of being alive.
And we can love again,
and again,
and again,
and again —
and yet,
never the same.
Perhaps I could invite you to read more of my work:
If you like short stories I have them scooped up into one category (including the six-sentence stories).
Or perhaps I could interest you in poetry and refections or something more personal like the Blog.
I also happen to own an IT studies blog in Estonian and "Chaos in Spring" can be listened to on YouTube, Spotify and other streaming services.
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