You’ve made a lot of not becoming ill
As if your ship were bound to stay on course.
Yet, now you’ve taken sick against your will,
You’re subject to the wind’s capricious force.
That only goes to show how much control
Is lying in the hands of those who breathe;
Although you’d like to think your body’s whole,
Beneath the surface, molten fractions seethe.
That leaves you with the choice to fight against
The nature at your very inmost core
Or go along with what you’ve always sensed
Has been the reason that you’re looking for;
For, at the heart of weakness, there is strength,
As you shall come to realise at length.
Photo by CDC on Unsplash
Illness
