Never give up the fight: A poem 

I wrestle with an eddy of words 

They salt my cheeks with ungainly tears 

They are downcast like flightless birds 

Knotted by the gravity of all these years 

The wind is rough and wild on my sails 

My cotton cannot be counted in bales 

To the lead of inertia, I am wed 

Ideas come aground on my bed 

I always feel headed for the abattoir 

When I thirst, I feel repulsed at water 

The heat of nonaccomplishment makes me hotter 

In the impatience with patience, I freeze and totter 

But one night, wisdom’s dragon in white 

appeared to me like a vision on my right 

And said to me: “Don’t lose sight. 

In the darkest hour, never give up the fight.”