The Struggle

Every year there is a new winner; the prize
for bathing in light is light.  The losers
continue to struggle towards an open window,
a crack in a door, a small hole in the ceiling.

Struggle to escape, to find joy.

Those who capture joy for awhile
become drunk with happiness.  Their words
like weak cracks of thunder while
around them clouds gathering thick

and black, prepare lightening.

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