Life

Handling no tools to work the black Soil in the sun-ripe dawn, I angled Toward the gift. Newborn, the cold Clouds and rain drenched winter, and Broke me bleeding. The weeds reached Taller and only a spark of life, was Enough to survive. I was alone on the edge of night, with A dark sea all around me. Only God to Approach, finally holding onto daylight. Weathering the storm I came too, with A laugh and grew fat and rich and a Golden dress that adorned me.. The end does not stop. Foamy waves Reach within my bones as the high Tide is forever sleeping. To go on is A gift wrapped in a future.