Chapter 62 : Poetry : Cloudy opinions

Opinions scatter like leaves in autumn,

Each one shaped by the hand that holds it.

They arrive from different corners,

borne by voices we know, and voices we don’t.

Some press against us, sharp as thorns,

insisting on edges we hadn’t noticed.

Others settle softly, like quiet rain,

seeping into places we didn’t know were dry.

They twist and fold, mirroring fears,

beliefs, hopes, and stories long lived.

They ask to be held, examined, let go—

not all are ours to carry.

So we contemplate which to keep,

and which to release back to the wind,

finding the shape of our own truth

among the countless others that float by.

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