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January 16, 2019

 

I sit

this tired old desk

bowed under thoughts

hijacked or ignored

failure and success

oddly accumulating

I am

devoid of ambition

of innovation, scarce

able to withstand the tide

flows in day-by-day

in tedium

I look

up to the heavens

watch brighter star

rise, its flame

my pyre, and pray

grace may fall

on me

 


I Sit
A poem by Peter Rhebergen

Copyright 2020

Each New Day A Miracle
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