No Old Dream
What is the price of suffering?
Better question to be – what is the gain?
With burn’d eyes I twitch to see
The end I might attain.
The one who had no purpose
No chain to hold her down to earth
Now can just see the breaking light
Of a dawn brought painfully to birth.
So many dreams died through the years
Old hat at gath’ring ashes strewn,
Can hardly feel the stretch
Of healthy limbs pulled askew.
With mind swept clean by stinging brushes
With understanding riveted together
In the toyshop of my life
I can grip a new chain all-weathered.
This drifted one has a legacy
A wand’ring end that may yet reach me.
All earth tilts its head to wonder
That my life doesn’t end with me.
I will not dream of death,
Of tender ends and tender mercies,
I will not run like colors in rain
Squalls sinking me in raging seas.
My legacy, hard-won, badged with courage,
Will yet do good to those of mine,
Will yet show order in the chaos,
Rhythm weaving through dissonant rhyme.
I count this all worth the pain,
Without complaint I stump through,
For my man, my children,
My greater purpose will shine true.
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