Mosquito

He had been there for a couple of days in my toilet, hovering around; all my efforts to capture him in my closing palms always, always, drew negative results He could have easily feasted on me while I snored, but, for all that I know, never was I disturbed; sure, therefore, he was not after my blood, group A plus, which mosquitoes are famed to gulp This morning, while shaving, I saw him in the mirror behind me perched on the wall in a sort of sagely meditation; a swift turn and a slap then sufficed To extinguish life into a modern painting spread across the toilet wall tile to interpret which our intellectual brains would no doubt spend sleepless nights But not a drop of blood did I notice; perhaps, the poor thing was fasting, doing penance for a guilt of the past; no wonder then he chose to be non-sanguine The habitual sucker, perhaps, was a saint; how foolish, as ever,I was ignorant again. Mosquito, insect or whatever, he had a reason of his own to be there In my surrounds like a teacher in the scheme of things universal. Asinine we don't understand, no wonder, inscrutable isn't the divine order? Thank you friend for the lesson I am taught now not to transgress into the being of others for my silly comfort and fears A seed of remorse you placed in my heart gone rabid about bodily comforts, sorry; help me now live life without worry not swayed by pleasure and pain equanimous like you ever have been