Back in the hospital, looks like. Another dismal mid-life assessment, and some particular details from this stay. His friends—hospital patients, it seems, maybe from the same wing—try to buoy him up, but to little avail. Here’s what’s left:
He leaned on Heaven; no. Black would he bleed
to tests. Their EEG for months, for years,
went mad. So did not he.
Things are not healthy, but he’s not insane yet, which is something, and there’s not enough need yet to lean fully on God either. Carry on, Henry, you’re not finished yet.