As I tinker with the fourth poetry collection I realise how far I have come, yet I find little comfort in that moment knowing the roads I’ve walked and the oblique paths waiting in the shroud of ignorance. My life did a volta, unexpectedly as if it was a poem and the poet changed their hum. Hum. Hum. Hum. I never knew the power of a hum. A hum can break and undo a life, a solid life as if set in concrete can shatter from a simple change of hum. Huh, fancy that. Ho hum. I tinker and think no further on matters ahead. Shards of moulded clay lay shattered by my feet. I imagine I look naked and lacklustre, finding no evidence of otherwise. The darkest day has turned to night, and in that I find comfort.