And, had my house not fallen down,
I would have been a boor
And bragged about my great renown
Which I’d done so much for.

I would have seen the stars at night
As pillows for my feet
And looked to neither left nor right
But stridden down the street.

So now I’m glad about my loss,
Despite the straits I’m in –
As happy just to bear my cross
As I have ever been.

I know that bearing one or not
Means nothing – not one single jot.

Photo by Julentto Photography on Unsplash

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