Not poems when you open your eyes in the morning

Something or nothing That's what's in all the paintings I've viewed this morning I don't want to write about something as I'd need to research it And nothing is a tricky one - write about that and flood gates might open So instead I've just ran my fingers through my hair and experienced that feeling you get when you pull it ever so slightly, then I've stretched by body into feeling slightly better I'm thinking about the dog by my side, how I wish I could lay and find that kind of peace And the hospital, the hospital, the hospital and all the machines beeping but it being ok, everything's ok How I lined up every task to do yesterday, to end up in the right place but should I have gone there first, how many things sequentially go wrong - the sequences so important, the resets when things are missed, starting again Remember this, what... try to remember everything, let that go, sit, wait, go straight through As we paddle quickly back from the flood gate or the waterfall where we might lose ourselves One day I'll sit on some open water in a small vessel with just the things I need and let it sail, past the horizon, over edges, round bends and I'll trust I needed the journey that I didn't steer and I'll trust that at the end I'll sleep as soundly as the dog and I'll trust that if I take only myself and the bare minimum I need that I'll be just fine, better, someone at ease when their eyes open In the meantime I'll balance waiting and moving quickly - give myself impossible, possible asks, create sequences, change them, ask for help because in the end there is no choice... or in the end do I rely on myself? I can't remember