mild morning

i see now that all will was formed
when we were children;
that’s when we first agreed to flee or fight.
in the night, i pray to be more,
and i now see all former passings
as everlasting reminders of my right or wrong.
i hope the night hears my song, i hope it’s forgiving,
as i long to again wake, like i once did as a child,
to a mild morning where only possibilities rested before me.

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