My aching head awakens me with sardonic cheer.
Do I decry or countenance the woeful onset
of my symptomatic demeanour?
Would'st I be born of angst and dispossessed of reason?
Throwing caution to the wind,
allowing external influence
to control my passage of choice?
Do I stir the embers, sustain the fire,
Rage against my predicament?
Storm the Bastille?
Or, do I allow myself the luxury
To dip under the cover of darkness
For a while,
And enjoy the retreat from the light?
For we all need time...
Don't we?
Time to reset,
Re-establish our norms.
The struggle prevails.
Give strength to fear, fuel the wrath.
Allow it to submerge my higher self to lowly pallour?
Why?
Why would this be entertained?
Would my Lord approve?
Might I avenge all that has beset me?
What good can come of haste?
What good can come of ill-informed riposte?
Oh, fierce Wonder Woman!
Be still!
Temper desire.
Fight provocation to wilful exuberance.
Be responsive,
not reactive.
Take the time to slow down.
Allow the mind to wander.
Unfettered.
Unchecked.
Let deadlines slide.
Adjust expectations.
Remove the limits.
Your life is your game,
After all...
and you make the rules.
You can break them too.
Start over.
Does anybody else really care?
Control the narrative
and ignore those who would seek to be disruptive forces
within the fabric of your life.
Exercise patience with yourself over all else.
Claim peace for your soul.
Do not allow the ill trappings of frustration to overcome
forbearance.
Retain the ability to endure provocation.
Let sense and sensibility prevail.
I will take comfort
in being patient with myself.
To do otherwise would be a great disservice to my soul.
My intentions remain pure.
The world turns ever slower,
revolving still,
but allowing time for personal renewal.
The shadows of the sun pass over my eyes
closed to the ever-growing brightness of day.
Hours turn to days, days to weeks,
I pause.
I wait.
I entertain patience.
The winter of my discontent,
marred by misfortune,
but not overcome.
I am absolved of irreverence.
This timely juncture of decisiveness...
and divisiveness.
I wait...
and...
as the bluebells make their late Spring appearance,
my weary countenance once again shifts to delight.
I open my eyes.
The enemy within has been conquered.
