It is a miracle

a feigning light
sparks inside my inside
and lets my bones believe
I have found it all.
it is like the appearance
of a wisdom tooth,
or the first time my feet would walk
me into the world of doubts
of faithless bridges.
people are a bed of broken skies
they rain of mistakes
they fall off white lies,
though inside its inside
I found you
my little candlelight.

Ruddapoet