Slum Dweller
When you couldn’t in your youth
not with the fist to strike the rocks,
with progress push life smooth,
the tiny origin of your brain.
Now take in your palms countenance,
the swollen years of past.
It won’t be straight at once
from nothing to arise.
Arise, how worthy it is to live
with powerless hand to change the Earth,
to be a fulfillment of each day,
in a weak body with might remain.
Of tiny speck thing is conceived
not hugged is sorrow, not mature.
Night without the law
is part of every existence.
God, encompass this lure,
take it in your transforming hand
and leave me something more to carry,
than the skeleton’s shadow.
And when your life will expire,
dark sweat will mix with blood.
Dust of life, how others desire –
think, how wonderful life you got.
Copyright © Art Wielgus | Year Posted 2016
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