The Myriad

Give to me the myriad 
Of pains, regrets, and griefs you bear
And I will spin them into gold
That you can throw away, or wear,
Or any other thing you like.
I can perform this task: and yet
You linger on the edge of doubt
And worry, wonder, frown, and fret.

The myriad you’ve carried long
That twists like cancer in your soul
That’s both your sorrow and your joy
And what you see as, now, your role —
It is a part, but need not be
The self-defining weight it’s been:
You can let go of all the all
And place it here, with me, your friend

And then, within the silent slant
Of colors breaking into song,
The plethora of what’s to come
Can linger - lovely, low,

And long

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