for dust is packed

praying
give me strength
yet make me humble
give me a caring heart
yet find also
understanding

sometimes
sometimes strive for perfect answers
when know that perfection
even itself
is birthed out of
miasma in chaos

see, this night is bitter cold
but the air feels good
taking deep breaths

and remembering winter

nothing and everything
conjecture
souls are soft
before they are hard
even the flower remembers
roots it gave to last spring

as their faces shrink from absolute cold
the last flowers still smile from the touch
of a bit of winter sunshine

no amount of complaint from me
equals dignity
what does tomorrow know?
image

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