I am honestly so fortunate to be surrounded by such incredible writers. Those who stand by and are fortified with the ability to sit and understand the human condition. To genuinely analyse not only our lives but also those on this earth who are impacted by humanities atrocities. Dana Bolton is such a human being. Dana comprehends that there is always a better way to do things in life, especially through advocacy and proper knowledge resources. Dana\’s work does not hold back, which I certainly appreciate in a human being and more so in a Poet!
Happy Birthday Dana I wish you inspiration, mirth, & love! ❤
[Poem #1]
𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴
𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰
𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦;
𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦
.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴
𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘫𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯
𝘗𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯
𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘴,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦
𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘷𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵
𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴
𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴
.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦
𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶-
𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘦
𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘢𝘧é 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘰,
𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳,
𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐,
𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳,
𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴
.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦-
𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳
𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴,
𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭
𝘛𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘦
𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯\’𝘵
𝘛𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥
𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦
𝘛𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴,
𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦
𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦…
𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦
[Poem #2]
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯\’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵.
–
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘳,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘯\’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘯\’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵.
–
𝘖𝘩 𝘨𝘰𝘴𝘩- 𝘚𝘩𝘦. 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦. 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. 𝘓𝘪𝘷𝘦.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦. 𝘏𝘢𝘴. 𝘕𝘰𝘵. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯. 𝘓𝘦𝘵. 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
–
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘦.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦, 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘶-𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩, 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥. .
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.
𝘚𝘏𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.
𝘚𝘏𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘎𝘖𝘖𝘋 𝘌𝘕𝘖𝘜𝘎𝘏!!
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘺,
𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦,
𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥,
𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨,
𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨;
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴…
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘵.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵, 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. .
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𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴. 𝘐, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴. .
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𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘺𝘴𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.
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𝘐𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘰, 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘯-
𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘮,
𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦.
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𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦,
𝘛𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳-
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴…
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𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦\’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦,
𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦,
𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸
[Poem #3]
𝘚𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯,
𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
𝘙𝘶𝘣𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦
𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦
𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵.
𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯,
𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴.
𝘉𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺
𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯.
𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘦.
𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭,
𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵,
𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘦.
𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥
𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘗𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.
𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦,
𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴.
𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦
𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴.
-𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵\’𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.
©Dana D. Jane
CCIQ Press 