Accipere Fati

I used to be an optimist.
A little fever was a joke.
I lay and dreamed of everything
I’d do the moment fever goes.
I hardly did a third of that,
Though that is not the point at all.
The point is I could see a life
Beyond the downing fevered days.
But now I lay and do not dream.
I simply say, “This too shall pass.”
Accipere (not amor) fati.
“Or you shall pass,” a voice replies,
Though all there is is temperature.