Savior

Maturity. That’s his name. Clad in tatters but armored in time, He ripped me from the claws of a death That had already composed the funeral hymn For me. He found me torn and dying In a labor theater giving life To something I didn’t quite know: Something that had to replace the void That one fateful night had left: Something that could have been revenge. He took its place and came into my life, On a night of odds and spades. He picked me up from the ditches of mortality And embarked me on a road to everywhere. He showed me that pain was endless But that it always moved in pairs with joy.