The Miracle
When after the day's work
I stumble home to bed
dead tired and exhausted
like a wounded soldier
languishing of thirst and bleeding,
hungering and dying of fatigue,
the only thing I need is you,
my only, truest love,
most lovable of women in existence,
all my comfort and the only cure
for my consumed and outraged soul,
the only nurse who can keep me alive;
but you are there, and will be always there,
the final harbour after all the stormy seas,
the star like Sirius to always guide me right,
the brightest light in all the midnight sky
to solace me and give me courage
and renew all that which was my life
which I had thought I had completely spent;
but that's the miracle, that all I need
is one kind thought from you,
and I will be reborn and resurrected,
no death and no ruin having any power
against that life and that love
which gives me all I ever had to live for.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 451 times
Written on 2006-12-08 at 10:34
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
