In the darkest final hours,
  I began to write

And my words once spoken new
  from scattered ashes light the sky

To begin and end each day
  caught up in beauty’s distant wake

All loneliness filled by pages lined
  with happiness and joy

My fate betrothed, once mistress
  scorned
   —a lover more than wife

Whose vision so much sharper,
  her dissection cuts through bone

To slay the muted dragon’s fire
  in present tense delight

Beyond all past and future clouds
  above the darkening storm

To mate each breath and gifted word
  that heaven sends *****

Never destitute in blessings shown
  —or in things I wish I’d said

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)