Fine Feeling
There are no symptoms
Nor any visible signs that anyone else can see
There is no chronic pain
Nor any different feelings that rise up from inside
You really cannot tell
You simply wouldn’t know
There’s nothing obvious to be dealt with
No illness to be endured
Nor sickness to be suffered
No brave battle to be waged
In this phoney war
This thing is subtle
A creeping, subversive agent
A sleeping cell awoken
A filthy fifth-columnist
A slow and gentle growth
Nuanced in its progress
Quietly about its work
An occult, unseen change
An internal mathematician
That divides, adds and multiplies
And though it is yet microscopic
Invisible to the naked eye
Hidden organ-deep
And imperceptible to others
It dominates my view
The largest object on my horizon
There is no slowing of the mechanism
The body-clock continues on its course
I am not an invalid, nor entirely given up
So when you ask me how I am
I’ll simply feign a narrow smile
And tell you that I’m feeling fine
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