No-one Special

Can you be [[nothing]]
special when the help of God comes
and wake up in the predawn [[light]]
with no idea of who it was
that spoke and who it was
that heard?

Every sense of somebody
swept a[[way]],
every [[hope]] of attainment
ash to be scattered
as the search is called off.

Will you then find
shelter in the [[eye]] of the storm,
or sit at a loser's last supper
and [[trust]] that [[love]] al[[read]]y won:
that this is the [[signed]] [[will]] and testament
if you can see it for your[[self]]?

Traces

• Everything you do is a work of art