sublime
if we can creep
past the wear-down
rage
past thoughts
too hateful
to darken a page
past misery heedless
near needless
for pay
past the clock-worn
routines
we repeat every day
somewhere
some spark
flints away
in the dark
with plans
nearly hatched
for some progress
to mark
this waking dream
of guiding flame
powers us through
a poisoned mind frame
it is our own darkness
ourselves
that we fight
in the hellfire struggle
to create
our own light
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