The fight was fixed. He must've had a horse-shoe is his glove or something cause every one of his punches hurt like crazy. After taking round after round of this insane beating i find myself lying on the canvas. looking up at a room thats spinning too fast to recgnize it. i hear the referee counting off numbers along with voices of others screaming for me to stay down. The voice in my head insists that i get up and try again. That voice doesn't care that i can only open one eye and that i can't feel my legs - it can't care, all it knows is keep going. I think i must've gotten my mind from the Energizer Bunny.
Fortunately I am so tired, so damn dog-tired that i am almost unable to heed the call to battle again. In my heart of hearts i hope that i can just give up, i hope that i can just surrender. I hope that i am too hurt to try again. Through the pain comes the clarity - everytime i put my hand to this situation i seem to add to my own misery, not to mention what i may be doing to others.
God help me. That has become my mantra. The sum total of all the i am and know throught this recovery process: just a humble power man asking for the help that only the God of my understanding can give.
it's so ironic, that i have to hold back my twisted laughter. ironic that i have on many many occasions asked God for the power. The power to carry out His will. Today i stand before the throne asking for to power to accept my powerlessness. the power to just stay down. the power to just relax and let the referee continue his count...
Just for today - i can stop fighting and let God do His thing no matter how terribly frightening that can appear to be.
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