this too shall pass

i feel
a strange calm
this radiating
peacefulness
i have
applied all of
the necessary
bandages to my
windswept soul
enough to halt
the hemorrhaging
momentarily
a brief repeat
of acceptance
a portion of scraps
enough to stave off
the wasting
another day or so

these rare times
where the scales fall
from my eyes
and sleep calls
with a promise of
actual rest
the electrified bees
satiated on pollen
and the realization
this nothingness
is all there is
because in this calm
hope is as barren
as tomorrow’s harvest
crystal clear in
sleepy souls of poets
bereft of dreamdander

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