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 deal with
No illness to be endured
Nor sickness to be suffered
No brave battle to be waged
In this phoney war
This thing is different
A creeping, subtle agent
A sleeping cell awoken
A filthy fifth-columnist
A slow and subtle growth
Nuanced in its progress
Quietly about its work
An occult, unseen change
An internal mathematician
That divides, adds and multiplies itself
And though it is yet the smallest size
Invisible to the naked eye
Hidden deep within my organs
It has become the biggest thing
The largest object on my horizon
And yet no-one else may observe it
I have not slowed down
And I am not an invalid
Nor entirely given up
And when you ask me how I am
I’ll simply feign a narrow smile
And tell you that I’m feeling fine
No comments:
Post a Comment