13.1.2015

January 13, 2015 § 1 Comment

I have not got here alone.
Why was it they fed, picked me up,
put me to bed? So many kind ones.

What is it makes the guy in the tall truck pull over at the gas station for a sandwich to the kid sitting high up beside him?

So many small debts in my gratitude. Some greater.
Some even loved me.

God said, hey, the kid has made already so many mistakes. She sewed darkness over her head and, just look at the things she has thrown away !
Then, he appointed that she be anyway,
entourée par anges.

I am not then,
independent.
I have many little anchors and thin,
strong chains set left by the given good.

There is yet much to be done, had, got, in the way of bravery,
or in the way of things that take the guise of such,
if bravery does not exist

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§ One Response to 13.1.2015

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