are coming home to nest.
So I guess I should stock up,
and do what I do best.
With advantageous gains gotten,
from another night's rest.
Then I put my pen to paper,
I put my ear to song,
I put my brush to paint and stroke,
the colours thick and strong -
Remind myself of all the things,
where I know I belong.
These rarest times of clarity,
like food to starving souls,
are currency to darker times,
when times demand their tolls,
and fortitude is drained from us,
through agony shaped holes.
So I store up my strength today,
and fatten up my store.
I open up all the portals,
each window and each door,
and let the light come flooding in,
the way it did before.
So I clutch unto my guitar,
my brush, my heart and pen.
I hold onto every feeling,
now as when I did then.
Because I cannot tell when such,
good light will come again.
-o0o-
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