From Ovid to Paul, Augustine to the end,
come those haunting ghostly wavers.
How many ways can they buckle and bend
with their broken disabled behaviours?
Hovering above you and never committing
floats this fickle and random free-for-all.
Too old and tired to make a new play,
you'd hoped for a different kind of fall.
You were once a child, you thought as a child.
You're now a man, and you put that away.
You went from knowing nothing of guile
to watching everything merge into grey.
There was this phrase ... ‘boy most likely to...'
that you recall from a faraway time.
Is it worth trying to find what was true,
now you're a stranger to your own mind?
When chaos returns, it's just as you thought,
collapsing straight into childish petulance.
All your hard-won reason, on life support,
cut away and became pointless resistance.
But you now see you aren't what the damage says,
though you'll never know the reasons why.
It's a capricious rearranging of molecules
that've become masters at telling a big lie.
So take courage in failure, honour in suffering,
and have respect for your absurd persistence.
Interconnections abound and are deep and true –
the green shoots from your seeds of resilience!
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