Facing the Deep

Trapped and bound by a body unwilling to free energy
for daily tasks or
playing on beaches
and hiking
into the unknown
deep and wild
where bears might lurk in the shadows.
In this alternate place, too mentally occupied with wondering
and whispering words
into the unknown depths
of night shadows
deep and dreadful
where loss of purpose lurks in the corners.
Why? Echoes back in the stillness, like an accusation
against that unknown self
who hopes loving
compassionate and deep
might compensate
for the lack of strength to give labor with generosity.

What good remains in the service of one who wilts within simple motions?
Is service also in the heart that listens close to understand shapes in the meaning others share, then wraps words and compassion together with mystery as salve for the wounded and affirmation for the joyous?

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Side-note: Chronic Fatigue is more monstrous than a rabid bear.