Blessed are those who saw the unscathed light, who woke up today and didn't raise the blinds because they had been up all night.
Who left the place where the pain was, those who headed to it once, twice, too many times. Blessed are those who stood on that land, kneeled knees and got up alive.
Those who are born, those who'll die from now on. Blessed are those who thought about quitting words, climbing heights, dreaming of rivers that swallowed them. Who stirred the drug and the water today. Blessed are those who decided to stay, bound the wound but not the face.
Blessed who embraced the end, who gave it up at the last step, those are blessed as well. Who regret but don't regret, who knew but didn't know but did it anyways, who knocked on hell's door calling it heaven instead. Blessed are those who look around and find new ways.
Blessed are those who hold what they can't name, who were bitten by night bugs and show their marks when sun comes. Who recognize the supremacy of what will fade one day, who don't hide what is to show. Blessed are those who remained lying still on beds, facing the unknown, studying eyes, decoding messages, translating drawings of birds.
Blessed are those who saw the unscathed that lit today, who blew ashes, who lighted somewhere.
