A thousand years look back in the mirror and I praise the not knowing I cry clenching balls of emotion that don' belong to me, I hold it for all I can not know and skim but the froth of any pain, staying grateful for the blessings For the work feels like a fire burning Surely it will leave a surface I have not seen before The candle flickers and the silence of Alone is broken by those who came thru me And today the work is a bread I will bake to feed them "And if a man bakes a bread bitter with his disdain he feeds but half a stomach Amen-, ,,,,,
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