I was lying in bed after the night the spirits came to visit again. I lay
there long after the sun decided to came up. I lay there unable, drained and fatigued, to get up.
Consciousness came to my side to talk with me, seeing that I needed talking.
He’s a stoic man, but I can always trust him to be my reason.
His small but strong back leaned into the back of the thin wooden chair,
the creaking of the chair was the only thing that spoke for sometime.
Like some kind of candle smoke, our eyes locked and lingered for a while
until his eyes turned south.
“How are you?” He broke that fast of silence. “You seem down.”
I suppose I am this morning. Something about this week, really.
“Oh? Over what, huh?”
I can’t quite say. Trying to figure that out.
Consciousness paused for a long while, studying
my nightstand littered with pens and paper, scribblings, and a cup of two day-old tea.
He took his pipe between his teeth, straightened up again before speaking,
the chair squeaked again.
“You’ve steeped your tea for too long.
Time went by, slipped your mind, huh!
Oh, you’ve got your cup of tea,” He pointed with a great smile.
“But it’s cold and bitter now, dark too. Thick like life’s broth.
Time went by and the air stole the water, made it stale.
I noticed you haven’t touched it though. You think you’ll pour it out?”
That’d be one way to resolve things, I guess.
“Hmm. Could. But best to drink it.
You gotta drink something or y’go thirsty.”
Sure. Maybe just some sugar will cut the bite.
“Don’t try to liken it, sweetening the truth,
sugar’s bad for the health and it hurts the body to lie to yourself.
It’s bitter tea or go thirsty.
Consequence isn’t suffering
Suffering is not forgiving, y’know?”
“So don’t be like that.
A single sip will make you shudder so hard it’ll shake your bones,
best to drink it. You’ll hate every bit of it,
You’ll survive. That’s life. You’ll Survive”
Maybe you’ll find water, maybe even wine, to flush it down someday,