Thirty circles

Bold and bright

Ancient days and

Timeless night

Wasted moments

Treasured slice

Of life eternal

Entered thrice

As child, as maid

As mother fair.

As soul so heavy

Limp with care.

Dragging onward,

Cutting ruts

And dusty trails

In gore and guts;

The viscera of life’s true trials

The lies and laughs

The way and wiles

Of those who tempt

And those you trust

Of what you need

And what you lust.

Now that rut it cuts both ways

A path you built through shining days

A light beside, a glow before: Lead on and find your core.

(c) Mabh Savage 2012

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