Love and Joy

You can forage,
Muddy up 
Your bruised and bleeding knees.
They prove far rarer
Than white truffles.

You can light
Your hand-built stony altars,
Singing psalms to summon
Them from darkened skies
And darker gods.
No magic lightning bolts
Will answer,
On your own again.

Some hungry hours,
Days, and years,
The only love and joy
You'll ever find
Are deep inside 
Your empty folded hands.

Sometimes,
You must create them both
From nothing.

- 4/3/25

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