The real fight,
the only fight that matters,
goes mostly unseen, unmentioned.

To keep this malnourished soul alive
amidst the endless monotony
of dishes, traffic, bills, dirty floors.

To see grit and grime all around,
the blackness of hearts and minds
and not grow cynical.

To sift out and hold sacred
the grain of insight
from the endless confused thoughts
of that stupid, yet inspired kid
I once was.

To grow wise and not bitter,
younger in heart while older in body.

To purify the soul
despite clouds of black ash
falling all around.

How many times has the light threatened
to fade into nothingness?
Somehow a flicker always remains.

On those nights I am sustained
by the hope that one day,
I will once again walk
instead of crawling the way I do.

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