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No part of this poetry should be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author, Joe DiMino, who retains all rights: contact


"A Triumph of Sorts" by Joe DiMino

It is a triumph of sorts
To find alone courage
Primal seed placed in us
Such has the foundling
A father/mother
Deep and rich in the blood
Needing no other reservoir
The saturation of spirit

Of all inherent traits—
Best the family tradition
To pass on
That which we dreamed noblest
Even if a world
Not yet realized
Such are the erasers of generations
Softening the edges
We call borders
A frame is undeveloped
The fear, especially when 
Its primary guilt
Are those fools 
Of gold man die for
In place of the living

And to say
Rays of hope are angels
Also to say they are 
Good demons of sorts
No grave matter
When one knows
That failure is a rung
Atop the ladder
For all inventions
Climb till they find a base
A foundation that supports
As high as it is low
Any worthy blue
Always a sky above
The outer limits

For we fall only
To rise in direction 
Climb those pegs of stars
Where the dark begins
And night never ends
A blot where all pointers reside
Needing only one sun
To light our immediate places—

So I choose hope
When no sail of reason
Myth without a reality
To suit me
And God
When I am sinking
Gravity a law
But not a true direction
When it comes
To deeper treasure
Love my embodiment
And only compass

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