...because every time I want to give up
on this trial given to me as life
there comes a touch of light
to save the entire kingdom:
a pair of lips,
a past letter,
maybe the remembrance of rain,
an old friend
or a familiar road-
it all comes like a flood
of organic prayers and hope
into the valley of my soul...
I cannot be bitter,
I cannot mourn my own fate-
it would be like
picking a fight with the gods;
and who am I to say that gold
is more precious than a fleeting
passion?
my bones ache
and my mind deceives me;
though I am far from gaining
absolution,the present
offers such a compelling
defense!
...because commending every hour
given to me
is better than floating
through the void
of ingratitude and disbelief!
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