Poetry

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The spring of a new day spells hope. I vie to make this breathtaking moment a trophy for my day. It is never easy for me. Being present takes great effort.

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I woke up this morning
With a song in my head
A song unsung
A song so straight
Never had I given it thought
For it just played and played

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we can look deep within social resistance

peer through the window of a hopeless state

he was there from the very beginning

alone in a world of atmosphere

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I keep staring at the corner
Wondering where it has all gone
The sights
The sounds
The rights and all
All lumped
Everything seems so small

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Peering through an open window...'cross time and history,
I saw a hint of glory past- a fresh simplicity.
Over there... behold, a mother bent humbly on her knees
Praying for her family's care and other earnest pleas
Then, a scene did catch my gaze which stirred me from within
A pauper...lame, did put his all into a blind man's tin