Thought Picnic: That vulnerable sight of myself

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.