Crisis treatment
Our minds collide in splendid piety
to gracefully adorn our unity
in quiet prayer for the patient's sanity,
recuperation and return to amity
from any darkness in the shadowy conformity
of hospitalization's bleak passivity
of no way out from any black hole of calamity
but only the dead end of operational rigidity,
the horrible experimental vulnerability
of no way back but only way out into relativity
to nothingness or somethingness or no ability
to cope with any unexpected terrible fatality.
But our antennae feel the way
and hold the sway
against dismay
and any mayday
since we know full well
that nothing ever fell
by fate on us to tell
us anything from hell
but only from the other dell,
that there was never any trial tragic
which did not improve our mutual magic.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2006-11-29 at 13:58
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