Cure-All

Walking through the spicy and bustling streets,
Monotonous has life been, yet it fleets.
A burdened heart and a weary mind,
Truly is at ease to compassion find.

Toil and toil and toil each day and morrow,
Working hard, working harder on to go.
Making furrows and further going on,
Under the radiance of the mighty sun.

Always and ever on the nightly watch,
Guarding the seeds of honor on thy patch.
Striving each day through the darkness of night,
Through labor steel and sweat and blood I fight.

Parched the heart of such beings whose eyes,
Have run dry through the test of gold and lies.
Upon thy backs sun beats and beats to bore,
Until the strong falter, the weak no more.

Yet what essence keeps ever strong the strong?
To take correction with grace and change wrong?
To persist and resist by misfortune?
To travail for that life that lasts not soon?

It is through thee, my brother, my sister,
That tears from the sky fall to ease suffer.
Truly love the cure-all of all first ranks,
For all thy love through these years, I give thanks!

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    For people who love to think.

    Jian Carlo R. Narag, MD

    2005-2017

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