Brief is a candle,
flicker it does the wick
it twitches back and forth
in wind and breath.
Sorted is a mind
from trauma lies truth
we find in life things
that brings us rest.
Joy is in vapor
from rain and sun
that brings life
in growth plush.
Calm is what we
should seek for us
and for the voices
of the past to hush.
Victory is never found,
life is no game,
and the in the short
of things beauty is unbound.
Free from absent
barrage of descending
pain eternal there is
heaven in a voice’s sound.
Breath enlarges flames
in kindling heat
that we create with each
soul we don’t try control.
Life is short as a candle
and all joy preserve.
We never get what we deserve,
with gravity on patrol.
RMC 