some days 2

In every day there is beauty,
and joy.
In every day there is everyday,
and melancholy.

In life, they exist simultaneously, each as powerful as the other.
But in a life, they seem to manifest themselves separately,
one eclipsing the other. Overwhelming. Smothering.

Is one able to choose which emerges today?

In some days there is an everyday joy,
without need of beauty.
In some days there is a melancholic beauty,
a pervasive gloomy silence through which
filtered sunlight glistens in foggy mist,
dampness dries the noise of the world, and
far-off whispers are warm lips at our ears.