THE FLAME IN THE LOTUS

XXII.
This morning, through the smoky haze
I can´t see the sun. But it´s there.
Below, the bills are coming in,
The eyebrows tense in worry.
All around me the weakened eyes of the stressed
Dodge each other in needless shame.
Behind the haze, past the slow clouds
The sun still shines. The Light, still there.
I hope.

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