who will do the mending?
once broken
are they not more fragile,
or less so?
Toward a mindful life we bend,
and who shall do the bending?
once bent
are we not inclined,
or broken low?
Afar, our aspirations rend,
wherein can we render?
Hearts will ply
and onto such as you and I
a love may grow.
Should not there be a fire,
so who will draw the light?
But still
a fire burns so bright,
or fully, consumes our souls.
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