Drift

An hour past midnight, the Texas air begins to cool;
the ground still simmers from the sun’s intensity.

Under a billion stars we exchange simple thoughts;
captured in the rivalry of night and day.

Surrounded by slumber, we contemplate living.
In the twilight we drift towards daybreak.

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Promise

If not for a promise, would I be struggling to out-swim the rain?
If not for a promise, would I be blotted out of history?
I wonder what he sees when he looks down at me,
a servant or a pharisee?

If not for a promise, would I be allowed to live this luxury?
If not for a promise, would I be writing these words?
I wonder what he sees when he looks down at me,
a brother or an enemy?