Tradition
Dig down.Beneath heart held tradition and yesteryears long gone
Reach deep,
into holidays past and service now entrenched
Are you there?
Can you brush off the dirt, the guilt and the duteous call
Do you see
still your own form, your own light, your own selfless stride?
I dream
you rise like the golden phoenix born, birthed a new.
Forged
by molten flame and minted, sharp edged and shining.
I hope
you are that bird and not the fire left to smolder out.
Suffocating.
Buried beneath the heavy ash of someone Else's pyre.
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