I have because someone paid —
A martyr, a father, Christ.
If not for a mother, I would not even live.

Heat on the left, and frost on the right —
The range between extremes,
A slit of comfort.

Through generations we drag ourselves
Toward the Eternal port
Along a corridor blasted through
By stonemasons for us —
Among them the Savior
And Kobzar Taras.