The sun is always on its way
This is the prayer of my tongue
Soft eyes, gazing upon hope
One that ferries a father’s dream
I am a vision that belongs to none except myself
Broken by being, assembled by the kindness of lovers
Fallen off too many a wagon, but still build-up
The vigor to gather my ruins and surge again
The sun is always on its way
This is the dream of my tongue
And for that, this body that I own today
He did not witness the atrocities of yesterday
He is a new seed remember, learning by living new again
Do you see
I am what hope is
I live, I fall, I love, I pray, I conquer
Do you see
I am adorned in sun colors now
Feasting on the heaven of my own making.
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