lucky

there was no loss,
only gradual decline,
the path would melt,
under years of steps,
in it’s own time.

and the route to the top,
would always be,
though softened,
by the changing view,
and by me.

i am lucky,
for this is how it is,
and enough of this i know,
to enable, small, yielding, bliss.

i am lucky,
like the clinging snows
that remain through
summers rise,
in their rightful place,
in their own time.

when disaster hits,
and we stand aboard our
own sinking ships,
then we are lucky,
that the heart resists,
the closing pulse
in our wrists.

i am lucky,
for this is how it is,
and i give a piece to you,
for brief, and binding, bliss.


More Work

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