On a Day in Which I Would Have Preferred Not to Die

The title says all, for it was a thoughtless and meagre day, in which nothing was extraordinary. I knew when I awoke today that the day would be like this... try as I might, I could do nothing against it, until now, at 11:40 pm, when I decided to read a random Emily Dickinson poem. She's a poet who can expel you immediately away from the ordinary and into the wondrous.

The Grass so little has to do,
A Sphere of simple Green -
With only Butterflies, to brood,
And Bees, to entertain -

And stir all day to pretty tunes
The Breezes fetch along,
And hold the Sunshine, in it's lap
And bow to everything,

And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearl,
And make itself so fine
A Duchess, were too common
For such a noticing,

And even when it die, to pass
In odors so divine -
As lowly spices, laid to sleep -
Or Spikenards perishing -

And then to dwell in Sovreign Barns,
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do,
I wish I were a Hay -



A few minutes later, I read this poem, quite as perfectly relevant thematically:



Good morning - Midnight -
I'm coming Home -
Day - got tired of Me -
How could I - of Him?

Sunshine was a sweet place -
I liked to stay -
But Morn - didn't want me - now -
So - Good night - Day!

I can look - can't I -
When the East is Red?
The Hills - have a way - then -
That puts the Heart - abroad -

You - are no so fair - Midnight -
I chose - Day -
But - please take a little Girl -
He turned away!