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~

is this not a gift...
this the simple state of mind,
one which frames the past,
of all that's gone behind!
is this not the lens...
through which but few will see;
this the door to hope,
all but... invisibly!
a doorway scant will find,
for it hides within the shadows;
is shrouded in life’s mists,
and to e’en the mightiest foe,
this door is proven to resist.
yet those who find this state of mind,
these the few of simplicity’s kind,
prepared by life for another view,
these the ones who hold this truth;
for with a heart clothed,
with but a longing and a prayer,
an adornment of thankfulness,
this doorway to hope will appear;
as a lock that finds its key,
to the one who is clothed,
in an attitude’s raiment,
the door is already ajar;
and with only a nudge,
it will swing open wide,
beyond, to a pathway to love,
and the key to this future,
this doorway to hope...
this is gratitude’s garment!

~

*post script.

there is no secret
to what opens this door;
a heart of gratitude is key.
At the edge of the world
There lies a crumbled bastion
Abandoned to the slow decay
Of weather and time

A soft lilting melody
Floats through its courtyard
As pale flowers sway
Teased by whispering winds

Within those mossy walls
Do strange things yet stir
Begotten by a long forgotten magic
Older than the fortress itself

Every night among those flowers
Do old bones rise again
And dance to that curious music
Beneath the raven stars
She's the cream of the crop
It was infatuation.
That friend I had to chop.
Text conversations
I needed to tell her.
I was losing patience.
I wrote her a letter.
Intended flirtation.
Lead me to frustration.
But she was motivation.
Kept reminding myself.
I had dedication.
I promised that I would
be right beside her
heartbroken found out
She was  just another *nightrider
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