I finally found what's lost;
or perhaps, what lacks;
of living's needed cost
for trustworthy tracks,
so I shall melt this frost
and better go sack;
into broken chunks that caused
my spirit's dry cracks;
for mornings when I woke
are brighter, contrast
to mornings filled with smoke
of those failure past;
for heavy was the cloak
my living had cast;
almost like I was choked;
maybe self-harrassed;
one morning yet I caught
myself to close mask;
and painted one I sought
was suited new task,
'tis no pressure I fought
but answers in flash,
I drank to surely wrought
this spirit I asked;
to be my lover, wrote
this letter just once;
For trusted I to vote
our winnings and haunts,
now mornings seem to float
in heavens to flaunt;
thanks to this love's devote
for quenching my wants.
