Written by Brenda Mox
Stranded on a lonely beachhead
as remote as archangels,
eyes closed in a comma of satisfaction.
Poised on the cusp of his fate,
he left his birthright of sadness behind.
Questing for accuracy in life’s sights and sounds,
upward reaching yet self-contained,
he walked through life with ludicrous trust,
the veil of mystery
still intact in his brain,
as an aurora between sky and ground
joined forces with his Self.
Text © Brenda Mox
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