Never Destitute
In the darkest final hours,
I began to write
And my words now spoken new
from scattered ashes light the sky
To begin and end each day
caught up in beauty’s distant wake
All loneliness filled by pages lined
with happiness and joy
My fate betrothed, once mistress
scorned
—a lover more than wife
Whose vision so much sharper,
her dissection cuts through bone
To slay the muted dragon’s fire
in present elocution
Beyond all past and future clouds
above the darkening storm
To live each breath and gifted word
that heaven sends pristine
Never destitute in blessings shown
—or in things I wish I’d said
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2018
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