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A gentle wind blew across sunny plains,
birds gathered songs; in honour of my birth,
cheerful notes which fluttered with that first cry.
Dawn's joy was beautiful; golden coloured
easy light; sprinkled with reds and soft browns,
fascinated she laughed new occasions,
granted wishes to all inside their dreams,
horizons spiralled while minds turned grins up.
I was alive! At last, I made it down,
just in time it seems, for I think mother,
Karen, was on the fine verge of defeat.
Love spread her wings inside eyes; wide open,
my arrival was welcomed with wild cheers,
now a little time has passed they have calmed,
order was brought back in on a trolley.
Peter is my name, hello there new friends,
queue up quietly please to visit me,
rushing will not get you here quicker for
smiles bubbling on my red baby lips.
Tomorrows are waiting with cool knowledge,
under their guidance I shall be taught life;
vanilla scented bliss which sings sweet songs.
Where I end up at the end of the day,
xylophone notes will be with the spirit;
yearning to return to this great birthing,
zones of experience will shower me.
Zigzagged bolts of relentless death crash through
years amassed, I weep to find myself here,
xenophobia wraps blankets of fear
while panic saturates my every move.
Vast armies of doubt stalked each breath set free,
unheard of bleak horrors I discovered,
the future lied to me when I was young,
sadly there were no fragrant curved rainbows,
revolutions captured thoughts and tortured.
Questions went unanswered as I danced with
pain's vicious jerky steps: pulling my heart,
over blood and nails I ventured; terror
needling me at every beat which stung,
musical frustration - aspirations,
laughed wickedly at each failure I found,
karma I suppose, wait! I hear something.
Jubilant jingles are resonating,
indigo apparitions welcome me
home as I nervously jitter quick laughs,
God is in the distance, I can see him!
Flimsy light suddenly bursts into bright
eye-catching parades of colourful grace,
dumb-founded am I as it loudly pops,
chariots race above clouds; wisps of air,
beckoning arms call for me - come closer,
angels whisper: Heaven awaits, Peter.
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"蘇幽寧" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 4 Oct. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/92424/%E8%98%87%E5%B9%BD%E5%AF%A7>.