Out of dry luck, 

I was chosen 

Plucked by a blind hand, 

From the garden of life 

Yet here I stand 

Stung by the thorn 

The poison and the blood 

And I wonder, 

about life 

And I guess, 

That this is love 

And I know as if repeating 

That I will bend and tilt over 

But now, my stem is strong and guarded 

Protecting the pollen I believe is inside 

And I live, 

By luck

And I'll die, 

with myself 

And what I can't see with my eye, 

I hold by the light of faith 
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