Resolve

In the quiet hours of night's embrace,
Where whispers of my breath so softly tread,
I strive 'gainst time with an abiding pace,
To mend the wearied airways that I dread.

Each moment's filled with purpose, fierce and true,
A battle fought with every shallow breath.
The strength I garner, subtle as the dew,
Defies the creeping shadow known as death.

Work is my sword, and will my sturdy shield,
Together, they carve pathways through despair.
With every exercise, my spirit's healed,
And finds within the dark, a light so rare.

Though illness seeks to quell my body's song,
My purpose to improve is ever strong.

Mick McKellar
May 2024