succumb

 
 
 
I’ve been tired, agitated, caught up again,
flitting here and there against mental dungeon walls.
Pressure building with no strength to resist.
Worn, weary, ragged of breath;
bleary of dry, unfocused vision,
burning like a three-day fever;
flickering, unable to stand.
I had been so grand just days before.
Deflated, defeated,
yet beating, beating
against my mental prison bars.
Until it came to me.
Relax, release, indulge with peace
as we indulge our friends,
our children
when we see them in distress.
I am not in service bond to static goal.
I am a multitude, a diversity, alive.
I am substance moving through shadow,
sometimes gliding, sometimes stumbling
yet moving at the pace of time.
.
.
.
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