THE FLAME IN THE LOTUS

XLIII.
There are dreams.
Low-flying, hugging Earth, belly to belly
Zooming above trees and lakes.
There is Life, walking on the damp pavement, smelling the car fumes
Passing the canals, tracing their trash with the ducks down to the sea.
I have raised my head to feel the spray of salt winds
On my face, holding back tears, sometimes laughing.
In the million moments before the next sunset
My heart jumps a bit and wonders about the rest
Of my days: will they be so keenly felt?
Sometimes in the dark, the Light
Holds more pain than promise.
Yet it is all I have left.

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