Ease: 5

No discipline is easy,
and I have had a week.
I don't know what He's doing,
but I understand the need.

~~

A CD lent me through the course of the day
led me to my piano, Beethoven to play.

Opus 109.
Studied back when I was young.
Back when eight hours a day was
typical to find me, alone in a room,
with a piano. Working.

The margins hold the indications
that there were elements difficult to do,
that in fact I didn't know how.

I remember. Struggling.
There was so much working,
so much always left to be done.
I remember how it felt,
impossible.

I remember the lonely
and the dark nights walking
and the never being seen,
unless it was on a stage.

Those were years of hard
even strange, discipline.
So distant to me now.

But I sat down last night,
and I played.

And can you tell where this is going?

I sat down last night,
and I played with ease.

The margins made of difficulty
were met with knowing free,
the reward of the work
--still living,
the growth of the years,
--now breathing.

No discipline is easy.
At the time.

~~

We have had our seasons;
I have had a week.
I don't know what He's doing,
but I understand the need.

To move us to the next frontier,
to know it free, living breath.

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 

less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 

ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort ]