This morning, about five hours ago, I woke around 5am started writing a poem in bed. I had a couple of lines in my head and grabbed my phone to write them down and intended to go back to sleep, but I kept typing. Before I segued it to a Christmas and Chanukah poem, it has these lines:

"The vulnerable possess great strength,
nourished and fortified by trust,
and love

The impenetrable suffer great weakness,
poisoned and enervated by cynicism,
and fear
existing in fortresses of solitude crumbling from the inside out,
until eroded and washed away from acidic tears never shed,"

The full piece is in the Catharsis Chronicles queue awaiting publication