It’s hard to see you cough and sneeze,
All curled up in a ball;
To toss and turn at every wheeze
Is just no good at all.
You miss your healthy self before
The coming of those germs,
But you know even germs must live
Their predetermined terms.
The cloud upon your face declares
The falling of a tear,
But hold your head up high for there’s
A silver lining here;
It’s true, the Messenger has said
The Lord is with the ill,
So come prepare the finest spread
To host Him and His will.
Begin with appetizer chants
Of His Majestic Name,
And line your plush repentance with
The cushions of your shame,
To pour into the goblet of
Your heart the Word of Light,
The more the pleasure of your guest
The more that you recite.
And then your Guest will sup upon
Your supplication fine,
Choose every word with care as you
Beseech your Guest Divine.
For everything you ask him for
Is granted you, or stored
For you to be united with
The day you meet your Lord.
Remember, child, that you are in
A state, supreme and pure;
So pray for much, but do begin
By asking for a cure.
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