#poetry #art %% This is a poem about a guy who survived cancer as kid and who has always been lonely and who just lost his business and was left by his new partner who finally had filled the lonely hole. The poem is about "next game" - the antifragile take hits one by one & survive & get stronger - going to the next game at every slap in his face. Poem: %% %% ![[5715b6b7-cd61-4a55-82e6-8c77dc55bef0-0-4113611090.png]] %% For a woe's eye, a grief's ear, A mother's heart and a father's care, More than lover's eyes and ear, Or any other tender part, %%A heart in the sky by Van Gogh%% ![[db8397b8-25e6-4056-b29d-d7a2be22304a-0-1030767340.png]] My scars must show in my own heart, The heavy weight of other's woe. That I may dismiss, and leave All alone to others' grief. %%A heart full of scars%% ![[74fa1d6e-9039-46d6-80b8-b7fd2b5fcea0-0-1242328836.png]] Yes, I can see another's woe, And be in sorrow too. I can see another's grief, And seek for kind relief. %%A tired body by Picasso%% ![[daa38717-1613-4c02-90cd-a80802eb0f38-0-1469093040.png]] %% ![[e01e3571-3350-4e1e-a2db-2adf284366e0-0-1762593062.png]] by Van Gogh ![[fb0f9fc4-4b3d-4c4c-9a87-a9d835efe7c9-0-1722317446.png]] ![[abea242f-8c8a-41f6-9c8f-c792d8ea9484-0-1130046045.png]] ![[e253b84d-ba5b-4d33-acf1-6ebee7618a23-0-3411781609.png]] ![[5f7f406d-7b4e-4d6c-88e9-f1f06a69541c-0-2796444657.png]] ![[a3d0c0f3-1043-462e-97b0-6f5869a21648-0-3343023968.png]] %% Blood may flow from my own heart, As my tears for others start, But it will not be in vain, If I can soothe another's pain. %%Tears falling from eyes fixed in the blue shiny sky onto a heart by Van Gogh%% ![[178cf990-57a8-4ab5-8575-626e2279bfb8-0-3278169367.png]] %% ![[40336d92-8d1e-4c9d-9803-5cc6b9bd0b21-0-3717097049.png]] ![[2db669bc-edb7-4311-9fee-25fcc067a117-0-2505670569.png]] ![[2915c5b7-857b-493e-bee3-43ac0a15fba5-0-1684576038.png]] ![[c3355472-8a8f-4066-8cb3-a889b55c55b6-0-631128385.png]] ![[549dc4e3-47de-426a-b244-1ba768adc3bd-0-3534893528.png]] %% Cold prevail warmth, Dark prevail light, Storm prevail calm, Fear prevail courage, Death prevail life. %%Life by Van Gogh ![[61f0c5d3-2400-488a-a5e2-efee195ccd36-0-2284296755.png]] %% ![[3b44f2a2-4541-4240-b113-02eee5ad3cf5-0-1391836312.png]] %% My scars must show in my own heart, The heavy weight of other's woe. That I may dismiss, and leave All alone to others' grief. Poem title: The Wounded Heart %% %% --- #work-in-progress One heavy day I ran away from the grim face of society and the dizzying clamor of the city and directed my weary step to the spacious alley. Dawn was still a little ways off, but the stars had already begun to pale, and the moon had set. The clamor of the city and the bustle of the street had long since died away, leaving behind an eerie silence. In the silence, I could hear my own footsteps, and the sound of my own breathing. The alley was long and straight, and at the end of it I could see a faint light. I walked towards the light, and as I got closer, I could see that it was coming from a lamp in a small window. The window was in the second story of a house, and the light was shining out from it onto the empty street. I stood there for a moment, looking at the light, and then I turned and walked away. Looking at my arms, blood was visible under the skin, pulsing with each heartbeat. Scars criss-crossed my arms, some old and some new. I had gotten used to the scars, but the new ones always hurt. I looked down at my hands and saw that they were trembling. I balled them into fists and shoved them into my pockets. I walked for hours, not knowing where I was going, or what I was looking for. The only thing I knew was that I needed to get away from the city. --- %%