* * *
In our weak and senseless flesh
We are still with our power,
Like a comma or a dash
We’re angels on the cover.
We’re still trying to stay unseen,
And work for life is our legend,
Though truly staying as we have been,
Hoping to handle it and manage.
Life is just a golden chain –
It’s unfinished and unbroken;
We are likely to remain
Through the speaking or the spoken.
We are tiny pitch-dark beans
Of a careful reminder,
I'll draw my unexpected wings
Till utter blinding.