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Tuesday, July 12, 2005


It is during those times when we are at our weakest,
That we discover ourselves, and realize our truth.
Of mice and men, or the tyrannical and meekest,
We delve into the 'mind', many answers we seekest.

So there I was, one miserable morn.
My mind awash with incredible pain.
My heart was quiet, my soul was torn,
Cursing the day that I was born.

Oh why, OH WHY, do I feel this way?
So sunny outside, yet perennial rain,
Inside this head. The permanent sway,
Of troubles past, repeating day after day.

The sickness, it held me, with such tender care.
Never wishing to hurt me, yet holding me down.
In its throes, paroxysmal, the wear and tear.
My body wracked, weakened, fighting for air.

Was there no end? Beckoning, eternal sleep.
I struggled for freedom, oh lifeless limbs.
The end was nigh, yet no energy to weep.
To fade away softly, no memories to keep.

But in this darkness, most rancid of places,
Comes a light, hope, and sweetly embraces.
Lifting the soul, and easing its misery,
The divine presence of peace and harmony.

And the strength returns, albeit lethargically.
First hands and legs, heart and the mind finally.
And then the eyes to gaze upon the splendour,
Of the world that awaits after visitation of horror.

Alive at last, I jump and shout.
Flailing my limbs all about.
The sickness has waned, it no longer holds reign,
And forgotten its grip of unending pain.

Thus life goes on, from one day to the next,
A fit of weakness, often quickly redressed.
And I? A pawn, through good times and strife,
In this great Earthly game we call "Life".
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