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With you here in my life: All enemies seem far away! No longing have I now to roam! The world seems like it’s meant for play! Your aura’s warmth is always home! God knows this cannot stand: Illusion hide your heart from me? Demonic agents Love erase? Our stars subvert astronomy? Without us is there even space? Oh where were you when world began, And where suppose was I? And where the bridge that crossed time’s span In twinkling of an eye? From dust we’re made, to dust in kind, (1) From star’s hearts we were blown, To share Creator’s heart and mind, It’s all we’ve ever known. Poet's Note: (1) ‘in kind’ – An English idiom. Suppose you are selling eggs, and I am selling bananas. You give me 3 eggs and I give you 2 bananas in trade. No money changes hands but we both accept that the exchange is a fair one. The sale then is said to have been 'in kind', i.e., produce for produce. God gives us the star dust to make our bodies and when our lives are over, we pay it back to him 'in kind.' MAYBE THE LAST LETTER - POETRY CONTEST What irony Elly! Every condition of your submission standards is met with this poem. She is 16, a young poet herself, surviver of an accident/attack on her family that killed her mother, father, and younger brother. Car hit by a military truck on a winding narrow road, the car perched on the edge of a cliff, her mother pushed her from the burning car, only to die herself with her husband and son. The young girl fell some distance, only to awaken a month later after several surgeries with severe head trauma, having missed her family's funeral. Taken in by accident almost, by a woman who turned out to be her mother' best friend from her school days, in a completely serendipitous reunion (they did not know of each other), the young girl survived another automobile attack/accident escaping with two broken legs after a hit and run injury. Then within a month small pox came. And then just weeks later, brain tumors resulting from the original accident have put her life in danger again. She is currently undergoing chemotherapy and has withdrawn from communication with others because she can't bear to think people are feeling sorry for her. Sadly there are those around her as well who say she is bad luck and fear her company! Her name is N**** and she has a poet's heart. She became my honorary Grand-Daughter shortly after her family's accident and and I, her honorary Grand-Pa. I love her with all my heart. She needs all of our prayers. This poem was written the night of her disappearance. Don't trust the internet right? But for my part, I believe every word of this story is true.
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