Where are you now?
I’ve been hailing your reign every day, and storming your clouds.
We’re airing your grievance, and praising your son.
And I think you’ll be challenged to cry, when we are done.
But I know you’re struggling towards winter.
That your grief is a form of belief, at home in the snow.
With a half-sigh, and a shake of your jewelry,
Will your clap be a formal collapse of masking your mirth?
It quakes up the earth.
Time and your smile are two things we don’t have,
So chin up, my dear, and hold the wheel.
The chatty technocrat, he’s idling in the dark.
He's kindling up a spark.
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