My Weakness, My Generosity

Please
Do not wound my generosity.
It is my last resource
My lone currency of love.

Gently part my chest
You’ll find a quiet hand,
and from it, a wellspring
of native tenderness flows.

Even if I tire on distant roads,
each laboured breath
still bears the scent
of love once vowed.

Though winds foretell a storm,
My fragile wherry lies moored
In a harbour deep with silence
dreams sinking
In a soul the colour of ash.

But, what if hope turns miraculous?
What if time becomes impatient
shatters into grace?

Still, the edge of my heart
slips upon injustice.
Let me inherit the dream.
Protect me from the fierce tremor
of unravelling the mind.

Oh, beloved,
my kin
uncertainty wraps around me,
A life adrift
In the sway of impermanence.

Yet across each shifting longitude,
I remain beside you, always.

Generosity is my creed.
Do not strip it from me.
Do not forsake our promises.

Light races forward,
not despite the dark,
But because of it.
And without shadow,
There could be no dawn.