Grinding these hopes
but I’ll make bread from this
listless dust born of nopes.
Just give me, O Lord,
that ingredient least
that lifts me to live,
Your beneficent yeast.
Tag Archives: sorrow
That I might brim over
On such a morning.
The sun makes gold
of this lake of tears.
In the days of the melancholy giants
One-Eye stubbed his toe
and it took everything he could muster
to avert the flow
and save the town from his tears.
Utrecht Journal 