There was sun today and serpents,
toiling in the earth
and walking though dew-wet grass.
There was hope in brilliant skies
and a half-promise of tomorrow.

There is no luck or merit
in this calm procession of life;
I keep to the shadows,
drawing no fire,
unlike those not afraid to speak,
who point out the way of light.

No luck or virtue in survival,
only the fear of being noticed
and marked down for the dark.