Oh the day tasks me today, weakness and inability haunt my existence, inability to walk any distance and stairs are impossible. For this is my existence today and sleep is but the only escape. How these days task my mind and yet to task me is to knock me into a firnification of both sleep and weakness.

However I do wake to find myself missing the blog post and seeing how words seem to come out. So with that I am happy to be here, even though I can not keep mind and body as one, I am to become a writer in mind and time with effort takes my fingers to write my story. Minds and body are not the same and I am trying to figure out, how and why each step takes the fortitude of a army and yet to move is a impossibility that haunts my existence.

To the day I will come to a benign and forgiven to the weakness of ailment, the broken lines of my body cannot carry the fortitude required to function today. For sleeping is not a answer, never is, but is the reality I must not conquer the day, but wait in perseverance to allow repair of the neuropathic highways to find my body in mind of my own.

Tranquility is not the found, is not the lost, it is the knowledge of the have and have nots are one in the same simply divided by time. To the broken the rich are not but a memory, and to the rich the broken are tales of the foretold of the grievous errors to take a man of gold, to a man of broken means.

Without the means of location transfer I am bound to this spot. Even the functions of eliminations of waste are not in function and I have to make sure to time my day, even if I have no success I have to go and try every couple hours or so. Sound disgusting I know but on these days it is a must, as I am unable to feel such desires. I have much to think and say but the link to the words and the hands are not broken but hang on the thread of the last thought and not the last subconscious means. Even breathing becomes first hand, I must try to remember to breath or they become gasps every couple minutes or so. Even if those happen not, I simply pass out and have not the power to waken until the highway of information is functional again.

This is not fun, but is a part of my life and I shall not become divided from life and death, but become a existence of both and know that I am not the world of function and development, but one of contemplations.

However all things cannot continue and this too shall pass, but in time. For this I must depart and get more done in sense of reason and writing.

Much Love

Your Friendly Ginger From The Woods.