POEM: The shade of the red lotus

In the mud of our failures,
out of the blood of our risks taken,
watered by the tides of possibility,
the red lotus blossoms.
Gift of the gods to Antinous,
sweating, wounded, mortal;
gift of Antinous to us,
beautiful, just, benevolent.
So many times have I failed
to slay the lion; even so many times
has the lotus blossomed still.
So many times have I sought
the way and been found
by the gods where I stopped,
exhausted. Jonah the prophet
slept for a while under a gourd;
let me rest here in the shade
of the red lotus.

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