Paralysis Hovering


How demanding this paralysis
hovering beside us on train,
plane,
bus stop,
mountain trail,
makes no difference to this wanderer,
caring not for our weakness.

Preying by habit,
whether by walk,
run,
sleep,
or encounter.

Paralysis seeks vacant seats,
opting for willing company,
continuing with their silence,
its volcanic heat preparing,
knowing aloneness invites
company often without discretion.

Even as we struggle to remain aware,
bondage opts to trick us,
passing on as it does
pages of distractions,
volumes of escapism.

Yet…

Our inner sanctum
asks we generate shackle-free expression
to fill blank pages,
embrace the mind’s devotion
as it battles to stay ever ready.

Nature,
flexing muscle still of syllabic reason

pumps blood dense with immunity-rich life,
provides our human form with sentient infrastructure.

How curious this…

The marriage of greatest importance
commitment between mind and heart,
that relationship inoculated against divorce,
the undeniable power of volitional passion
struggling through molten eruptions,
willing to bear fissures of open wounds
for the honor of survival.

To succumb is to shake hands with paralysis,
this most insipid and disguised
of all dysfunctions.

For even as one may desire pleasure,
shirking responsibility of passion’s quest
invites the all too willing paralysis gatekeeper
lurking in the shadows with keys
clanging like girders in a hurricane.

 
It patiently waits to bestow perpetual impotence,
the sharpening stone for inactivity’s most cherished weapon…

Fear.