Illness

I wake and feel the Earth upon my head

With Atlas limbs; I still can't hope to bear.

Strength seeped, my saviour is a crevice thread,

Behold! The Chasm; kneel! Gravity's dare

And yet the Blue, inert despite her reap.

The calm, sweet tunes so rest me on a cloud

Or caress my soul to a soudless sleep...

I dream of dusk and hope to shout aloud:

"O lo, the Sun, he gives the sight of truth - 

This pain is not the end of you." I gasp,

And grasp, I draw, fulfilled breaths for my youth.

The sheets that shroud me dampen the vile rasp

That comes in vain, O bless! Hawk ascension

I go beyond divine intervention.