Regard the conflagration in my wake!
An inexorable inferno burning bridge after bridge.
Emancipate me from the shackles of bipolar.
I beseech thee!
From the indignations of my past.
Take up the quill,
And relate my tale of woe I shall.
An incandescent silver lining!?
Was it not the mystic Gibran who proclaimed that the more melancholy carves into your being the more joy it can contain?
Adorn my face not with a masquerade,
But with a smile that never fades.
And off into the kingdom of the sick I shall foray.
With lineament and manner, borne out of experience, as my instruments of healing.
And as I behold my neighbours gaze.
You are a good doctor, Dr. Hankir
And unbridled joy gushes forth from my heart.
“It is you who heals me my dear and not me who heals you…’
Ahmed Hankir (c)