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were for this
my final grace –
I held my breath
and waited
the passing down
of consequence –
falling on my knees
wanting for another place
silently to fill
lungs no longer thirsty
for the light

every best
as yet tho not enough –
to starve the flame
where destiny is moored
for this
a prayer is given
without worry
for the cost –
the taking back of heaven
– dreams
I’m fondest of

a hero when the story
fell apart –
come for this
a morning more
to rise

. . .