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.