One day, when I awake,

My body will be old, and I will be young

No longer;

I pray my bones on that day

Receive warmth.

So desperately needed, heat;

Our inner light blinks to the storm of life.

In the onslaught, there’s war,

And we earn our halos.

What secrets are hidden in the calendar,

Hidden in the old calendars, with their

Dusty pages and forgotten

Years?

What happened to those years,

Those years that were owed me