From my sick bed.- Prose piece Copyright Robert Fullarton 2014

From my sick bed.- Prose piece
Copyright Robert Fullarton 2014

From my sick bed I can wonder on the moments of far and wide, with the gaze that goes further and further out onto streets and cafes, where I am writing...of yesterday, of health and life, not known to me for months gone by, these dreams are kept in bottles...I can watch other people and be envious, but each life is another story in motion to be lived and what is their life to mine and yours. From your bed, there are people coming and going, some to sleep, some are waking up, into bedrooms and out again, under a sky that is so broad and vast. When I fall asleep its like a thousand years lost in a day under the oak trees or in my bed, either way I am only dreaming and desiring something other than this moment of melancholy, but how can I give up all the moments to be surrendered before the pyre of grief and forgetfulness. I will remember and dream of better days, to be lived and not be put behind!

There are those who stand over me like waterfalls, their indignation falls upon my head, when I am weak and more human that what I'd like to be I have to wear my armour in times of trouble and face the times with courage once again.