And, lying there, I felt my face
Was screwed up in a knot,
And all because a lack of grace
Had put me in a spot.

A river of the blackest bile
Had run the length of me,
And, having gone the extra mile,
It emptied in the sea.

No sooner, though, than I released
My face’s muscles’ hold
Than all my inner turmoil ceased,
Which let my light unfold.

And now it’s shining from each pore,
And may it do for evermore.

Photo by Uday Mittal on Unsplash

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