Coming Out of Depression
The calliope of time plays many tunes, how is it my ear hears only requiems?
Still, the shadow is lifting, somewhat, and though I cannot say I have moved surely into sunlight, it is not as dark in my soul as it has been. For that, I am grateful, even if I cannot say that I shall ever live totally out of shade. It appears my DNA was tinted black, and my Irish-ness is of the bog and not the heather.