It is tough
when the sea is rough
when you wish you were on your back
catching some sleep in your rack.
It is hard
when you’re in the yard
and the lawn has long needed a mow
and the weeds are so thick they steal the show.
It is difficult
when the tone is grim
holding up a distraught mother
mourning her child who died to be with a lover.
This is one of my proportional ideas. That everything we experience is in proportion to everything else, in a sort of harmony / music of life.