A miracle- I always deemed them to be one,
rising to the peak beyond sight,
from nooks of the world never seen,
to pave a way- a way that lit up
the darkest of the night,
warmed the coldest of time.
On the stone heart I carried for decades,
left by them was an imprint,
never to wear off, never to be buried.
And was not I an ignorant fool,
to assume it to be a fleeting phase,
a feeling said to be picked up today,
and thrown to the trenches another day.
And they were wrong- the one who spoke,
their tongue never paused for the mind to breath out,
but I do not blame- how can I,
it was the lesson the world of their days taught,
but blame I do myself,
my days were different to begin,
had I given me a spare chance,
today would be the tomorrow I yearn.
Never mind. Time is master, this disciple wanting to learn,
picking my very brush up-
stroke by stroke on my page,
as the ink they left still glistens under the blazing rays.