Camera Type Writer

There is the somber, and the outright dark.
We can’t hide from the inevitable,
Death, strikes us like a gong, 
We are only armed to handle the delicate.
As you remind yourself, epiphanies are never always good.
We send SOSs from our dungeons
Searching for a rope ladder.
You too have stumbled on to sorrow
Like that wandering goat who found coffee beans.
A cup of coffee is not always jet black
There is even cappuccino with swirls
Of whip cream on top. Tristesse makes you
Dig deeper to find courage, and courage as we all know
Is something innate, that becomes
Your saving grace. Your canopy
Doesn’t save you from the pummeling downpour,
Still rain, waters your roots. Branches
Like lances grow from a central bough.
And you finally learn, just like sorrow and courage,
Hope too, is a freelance gig.

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