photo: by Seamus Kearny

Last week this article gave me the impetus to
dabble in an unhealthy dose of introspection.
The introspection lead to self-flagellation, which in turn caused me to self medicate.

In a fog (euphemism)
I found myself shamelessly adopting a lion for a writing circle.
A writing circle whose meshing points are short stories, poetry and the like.
I am no poet.
(Perhaps one has to
get poetry in order to write it.)

Anyhow, given the task of naming
my lion and allowing him to inspire prose/poetry--
I named my lion Tirso.
This is what Tirso has inspired:

variegated mask easy
to succumb to joy and pain
in a changing world charging
through time

I wondered if I was unshrouding myself as I characterized Tirso.
Perhaps I should take Steve's advice to quit B.U.I.
(Blogging Under the Influence.)