I am awakened by thunder and am resolved to know
Who I've been these passing years,
What I've learned and if I've grown.
For the thunder steals all recognition
Of who I am, except perhaps the fact
That I have grown no less used to death.
And since I am strange to myself to my very bones
My eyes grasp the faintest thing they see:
A window in the mirror, and a flash of light
Reveals the promise that once made me real:
To burn with truth, and learn to kneel.
No comments:
Post a Comment