Dear Compassion,
What a beautiful thing that is when you come at the right time..
When someone familiar or strange has need for you, and all the other systems in my body don’t seem to object your flow unto where you need to go.
That is rarely the case though, for you spike at times when conditions are not in your favour..
And if there’s no way for you to be channelled through, you roam restlessly through the emptiness that is within, gaining speed as if with momentum you could create your way out..
Yes, one can suffer from compassion..
Even stay in bed, drained and tired..
As if curling within oneself would quiet the whirlwind that you make within..
As if a lullaby would convince you to take a seat and wait until you’re needed..
But then there are other times though where you make an escape..
When one is met with a textbook case of need of compassion, and you’re nowhere to be found..
All the courage in the world is then to be mustered to brave being present and aware without your invisible soothing embrace..
And one can seriously get injured when deciding to give in such dryness, you know..
What needs to be done so that you reach a point of equilibrium?
Not have you running around jobless but also store a reserve of you when the need arises..
Or is that a foolish thing to ask, to have you contained and confined?
Maybe more people would opt for you if you quit all your games of hide and seek..
But if it is either this or none at all..
Then you know where to find to me..
In bed, restless from compassion..