Never Destitute

In the darkest final hours,
  I began to write

And my words now spoken new,
  from scattered ashes light the sky

To begin and end each day
  caught up in beauty’s distant wake

All loneliness filled by pages lined
 with happiness and joy

My fate betrothed, once mistress
  scorned,
   —a lover more than wife

Whose vision so much sharper,
  her dissection cuts through bone

To slay the muted dragons fire
  in present elocution

Beyond all past and future clouds,
 above the darkening storm

And to live each breath and die each word,
  that heaven sends pristine

Never destitute in blessings shown,
—or in things I wish I’d said

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)