And now I am not well. My head pounds with the rhythm of a thousand drums, and swims through vast oceans of nothingness. My love tells me to rest, and I can only barely moan, " I am restless, how can I rest when rest itself has forsaken me". He is on the mend, I know only that this too shall pass.
It will soon be easter. And at easter I will go away with my family to a place where the wind sweeps the beach clear of any footfalls, and sweeps my soul clear of all the rubble that it collects as I go about life. Health and rest and wellbeing all come from this place, where life began, and begins always. I anticipate.
