They ask me to stand up
to exercise and play,
to run, to swim, to fly.
Very well...

One and all advise quiescence,
recommend counterpoisons, refer doctors.
they peek on me, perplexed.
"What's wrong?"

They suggest new sightings,
to try and get out, to not travel,
to cease living and to not perish.
It doesn't matter…

One and all see my struggle
for my bewildered expectancies,
the stumble of my now fickle nerve.
I do not consent…

One and all pick on my plagiarisms
with relentless blades,
judging, berating, amused.
I feel fear.

Frightened of everything,
of this morning's light, of the certain defeat.
For today I'm just a mortal,
decrepit and ephemeral.

For all this and more, on these short days
I'm not listening, I'm not here.
I yield, I strive again, I succumb.
I lock myself with and I open up to
my worst and most treacherous enemy,
"U" (my ego)