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I take it like flakes of gold
watching it melt into windows
and I take a deeper breath

This wholesome air is sweeter than the last
it is one more breath than the day before
while one more tear is refrained from breaking
as I ponder

All this beauty cannot possibly be mine
I never felt as if I deserved it
but it surfaces amidst the regrets of my kind,
the perfectionists who are too often diverted
as ambitions for the ideal hinder the ideal

I refuse to fill those cravings with hopes to be
while what is, dawns alike a balance,
every bit of nature more majestic, and life
steadfast, and death
with each flake of gold
each day to die
every breath to be thankful for