Festering Wound

Midst gifts of life, like poison in nectar, pains flow in too, Endlessly, as though, they pester us with unceasing woe; Schedules suffer; Works slacken; spirit and body slow down, Existence turns, like, eternal psycho-physic breakdown...! Saint Paul had a wound of such sort and he prayed to the Lord, He felt, yet, in everything, the will of God be adored; If in human weakness, divine power could manifest, Could there be, in mundane existence, a greater conquest...? I happened to have, in my heart, a deep festering wound, That developed owing my life that was wrong-rhythm-tuned; Licentiousness, I should say, had taken its deeper root, Stresses and strains pricked me like thorns within an unkempt boot...! Hopelessness, aimlessness, what else one needs for a great fall? Pain of wound started rising, like price-rise in constant toll; This festering, I know, will have no end till my sole death, Brooding over it might cause early leaving of my breath...! Saints and sinners have classically vital difference, Stigma of saints caused, indulging in divine reverence; Sinners have wounds festering by sins unconditional, Yet, festering wounds, is factor, truly traditional...! 20 March 2022