The honour of the struggle

There is honour in the struggle
Of looking the world in the eye and saying
No

No I don't think I will give up just yet
Because I'm more than you think
More than what you're putting me through
I am the things I will do once I emerge

No one struggles without hope
One who is already beaten will lay still
You, fellow struggler, are not beaten
They have not got you yet

You will not win every battle
And some conflicts are not worth getting in to

But for those times, when life insists
That you must not resist
Then, my friend
There is honour in the struggle

Some poems I've had as drafts for a long time. This was a pretty much only a title back from 2014 when I did themed months. It's very different to how it would have turned out if I'd written it back then, curious to know how my style has changed.

Honour: To stray a little

Humanity needs to expand its mind
It's been doing so for quite a while
Looking for new experiences to find
New methods and techniques to trial

But to do so can be frightening
Intimidating to the average soul
For every experience they find enlightening
There'll be another to annul

We're certainly scared of straying a lot
Those fellows are just completely wild
Better to do something safe soon forgot
Experience a life more mild

It's by small differences that we gain our pride
It helps define who we are in essence
Helps us to be set a little aside
Gives us new life lessons

Straying from the path has it's own reward
Be it a run, jog, stride or hobble
But I ask you to stray a little as you go forward
Trust me, you'll be better for the trouble.

Honour: Finding honour in a broken soul

There are no whole beings any more

No creatures who are fully intact

Some beings give away part of themselves to others

Entrusting them, even though the other may not be aware

A beautiful sign of how much they can care

Each reducing themselves to become more together

They are not broken by such actions

They are all together more wonderful by doing so

But others find that same act harder

Because it's possible to lose yourself without giving it away

It's possible to not know where part of a being has gone

Just that that part absent. Not here.

Somewhere far away yet oh so close.

Paralysed bodies preventing restoration of a piece within arm's reach

And then others talk of honour

Of how good it is to be whole

And they mean not to be vicious or callous, but there's no honour in a broken soul

They just don't understand. And have never had reason to.

Yet they might be hiding an absence themselves

It does not do to assume you alone are broken

For the beauty is not in keeping yourself whole for eternity

Yet nor is there romance in being a broken being

Life is for searching. For adding, subtracting, swapping and dividing.

Maybe growing a little bolder. Filling a couple gaps more than you create.

Not embracing the brokenness, but perhaps becoming a little more accepting of it

For you are your edges, curves and cracks all together

And then maybe, someday.

You can share some of your broken self with another. And they'll share their broken self back with you. 

I literally have no idea what I've just written. I couldn't write it again. But it's very different to how I usually write, which is good. I just had this song playing, and started writing. Maybe it makes more sense if you listen to it - http://levipatel.bandcamp.com/track/and-she-translated-into-the-sky

I do not claim to be an expert on depression, nor (for the most part) a sufferer of it. But I did have that in mind when writing, so I hope I've done it justice.