! ! T H I S...

This…thing… which visits me, torturer so intimate which knows me better than I know myself: calls out all my resources to transcend its pains; changes always its approach as if it’s quite determined to leave no corner unexplored… plays on my fears, my hopes, my dreams…: what can I do but see it as the hurdle (which I built myself?) but failed to clear, the last time round; have another try…see it from the helicopter hovering overhead which photographs, but does not feel the rider or the horse; the going, or the race.. have another try…it is the way to develop and refine your skills; another day, another race; and after it, serenity; detachment; laid-back day.. some hidden deal’s been struck and time has witnessed it. You too? You’ve met this thing emerging from unreason to the light? Join me in the stillness; for that which this affliction plays with in disguise, this must be love; this must be grace; this must know its own origin; all else shall pass; meanwhile, the joke is this: it’s bearable… if not, it wouldn’t work… This poem a knowing smile; black demon with an angel’s eyes.