What provokes the courage
In the battle of time
Lofty ambitions
Brought down to earth
A Hakka from deep within
Each limb filled with a
Warrior‘s thought.
Beating heart
Electric hum
Dimmed floorlights.
Still there is that sound
Of planes passing overhead
What is it like to deal with
Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.
It is very easy to gaze inwardly
But are we victims
Or do we seek out these traumas?
A sandpit of the mind
Leaves only the inner scar
The clock ticks on
Its mark invisible to all
Until we can't shove it away
Intimacy can be alone.
We are highly functional
And spatially aware
Of the robot within.
A lack of sleep is not much to go by
Bit by bit the heart
Calcified.
It isn't unrelenting
If there is help.
We aren't talking self-medication or polite nods to general enquiries
We don't air our dirty laundry,
Don't forget you've been inducted
To feel the fear before you even get out of bed.
Healing is OK to be pagan
We call it New Age
Not today fearing the witch‘s cry
Adorning the scroll of your medical certificate In which the icon of Pan is embedded.
Stoning, drowning or burning to death
But this happens for many a reason.
If only there was more love.
A world benefited from wisdom
For power corrupts minds turned
Cold and forsaken of nurture
And dominates it absolutely.
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