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On the floor by the door,

Lay the pieces of my life,

Bits of broken dreams,

Shattered by his schemes:

Innocence wasted, deceit tasted,

Hope deferred.

But somehow from the ruined scraps,

Something new conceived,

Holy and ancient, Hope,

Rekindled in the ashes of my dreams:

Bits of broken glass,

Released finally to the past,

Dustpan used, brokenness fused,

Hope restored.

bjb2002