Never Destitute

In the darkest final hours,

  I began to write


And my words once spoken new

  from scattered ashes light the sky


To begin and end each day

  caught up in beauty’s distant wake


All loneliness filled by pages lined

  with happiness and joy


My fate betrothed, once mistress


   —a lover more than wife


Whose vision so much sharper,

  her dissection cuts through bone


To slay the muted dragon’s fire

  in present tense delight


Beyond all past and future clouds

  above the darkening storm


To mate each breath and gifted word

  that heaven sends unwed


Never destitute in blessings shown

  —or in things I wish I’d said


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

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