Spent the day journaling. Panning for gold.
Sifting through the past days and weeks,
trying to find the nuggets of gold
amongst the sand, mud, pebbles and silt,
moments of joy and hope amongst sadness.
Journaling out the year beside a fire
made with the year’s fallen branches.
Some dry leaves for tinder, lift up,
orange again, they seek their old home
as fireflies, falling ash, dissolve in rain.
Day book, night book, pillow book, diary.
A collection of poems written in sunlight,
moonlight, electric light, candlelight and in darkness.
This volume of mine waits for dreams
to be remembered, days to be told.
Sei Shōnagon, author of The Pillow Book, a book of observations and musings recorded by her during her time as court lady to Empress Consort Teishi during the 990s and early 11th century in Heian Japan. The book was completed in the year 1002.