Poem: The wealthiest man in the world
It is a beautiful morning, and I am staring at my wife.
She moves with a grace that conceals the strength that lies within. She is the keeper of light in a realm too often shadowed by the demons of a haunted past. Her presence is a constant, a steadfast force that remains unyielding against the surging struggles that rage within me, within us. In moments when my own flame wavers, threatened by the gusts of doubt and despair, her spirit, fierce and gentle, fans it back to life.
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