That’s all really we really were then, motherless children wild on the beach, wrestling the waves-

You hated God most then, and me, I’d forgotten how to pray, my mind banished to garden of graves.

Frantic with fury at a world stone cold for which we cared way too much,

Starved for some sort of sign, some grain of hope, a golden gentle touch,

We never saw the answers coming, sneaking closer under cover of the darkest hour of night-

Time heals wounds-really just buries them good and deep, change comes sudden, things turn right,

Never believe the knot in your gut-it’s the price for being alive,

Never sell the secrets in your soul- you need them to survive,

Just forge ahead like soldier till sky cracks open and you arrive.

 

 

 

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