Fragile answers lay loosely scattered,

like after storm clouds where prayers slip

through and hope abounds.


Your voice of thoughts conquers the silence

with flavored aromas of gladness remembered.


You try to chart out tomorrow and fill in the blanks;

steady the course to find a way.


The linen of forgiveness is the line between

night and dawn. Releasing the pain allows you

to own the day. Refuse, and night takes hold.


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