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Chills grow increasingly prevalent throughout my veins

Master plans are only as good as the perfect picnic until it rains

How do we stop and smell the roses once their pedals have been dampened?

Does a song of hope persist even after it is saddened?

With just weeks gone by I am already knee deep in a struggle that maddens

What vehicle will deliver your warmth and light?

Will I only realize said blessing at the moment of your arrival on site?

I am not skeptic today but perhaps weak and weary

If it were easy, these things I would see clearly

In my struggle I gravitate towards and cling to the distractions near me

My heart is genuine but what obligation do I have of my love?

Experience is not a collector of measurable debt

I offer you no certainty of what to expect

How can I offer something that I don’t know myself?

How do we elicit strength, as we do melt?

Am I bound at birth, to the curse of these words?

Their familiar tune and tone

Pervasive and alone

When will their ink run dry?

Is looking for answers on paper better than in a city in the sky?

Where is the nobility in love without mobility?

Where is the light in a land where the sun does not rise?

Where are you taken when you close your eyes?

Today my hope does not even lift me from my seat

But I would be a coward to admit defeat

It may dwindle but it will not die

To the core of my existence I am certain of my purpose in this life

The presence of darkness does not replace light

Even if it makes it more difficult to see.

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