Was and now
Sometimes, I have
that strength that beyond reason of what I have lived and experienced is almost
impossible to fathom.
My stride is
determined, my appearance is probably debonair and my voice conveys authority
and awareness of who I am and what I believe.
However, I am in
many cases a little man, great affliction draws resources of power, faith and hope;
I just believe I will not go under.
Gifts I hate
Then, something
seemingly ordinary, an irritation in the throat, a cough and a cold follow like
a caboose of the three unwise men of the Orient bearing gifts of tiredness,
lethargy and weakness – my gait slows, my strides shorten, my voice fades, my
speech cannot keep up with my thoughts and basically I am ill.
My mind works
strenuously giving my spirit verve that I need to shake it off to return to my
normal self but for all the willingness of the spirit, the flesh revels in
weakness tardy at doing what I will to do.
I become a feeble
shade of myself, my visage attaining legendary pallor with colour draining away
that from afar they know that things are not so right.
Sleep to rise
One can still put
up a show but a feeble “I” is not the most comfortable sight if you have
aforetime known who I am.
I wish to just fall
asleep and wake up rejuvenated but this condition sometimes comes with
restlessness that puts sleep out of reach – I have sworn to myself never to
succumb to drug-induced sleep.
Maybe some soft
classical music and sweet thoughts of inner strength that revives will just be
the tonic – I just hate being a very vulnerable sight of myself.