Mourning Breath

Here I lay, with the dreams above my catch.
Here I lay, before the rise of my sun.
Here I lay, done against the odds.

Here I lay, beneath the lightened Oak tree.
But without the shadow of peace;
Which was taken from the beauty.

Laying here I think of the golden shine-
Glittering snowflakes and the green.
What could have been done?

What could have been done!
If I wasn’t laying here after all!
If the lightening didn’t strike the Oak at all!

Art: The Omelas by kahvilei

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