Eventual: When?

Dancing with
The great doubt,
Whose icy tendrils
Wrap around my heart,

Starring into the flame
That burns in my chest,
Fibromyalgia comes calling
Once again,

Discouragement flares up
Along with the pain,
Reminding me again
Of the impossible dream,

Of being free of this scourge
But when will that happen?
And there’s so much
That goes with it,

All this sensitivity
And such,
Sometimes, I tell you
It’s all too much!

Round and round
Roll the doubting thoughts,
How disheartening,
What rot!

Luckily I’ve got
My practice to fall back on,
I sink into the cushion
And turn towards the disturbance,

Feeling the energy
Go up and down
And sending it
Throughout the body
To nourish every hungry cell.