It’s here.
It’s now.
The dark of night.
The struggle between might
and right.

The tales
of what’s been said and done,
and those ones
who thus become
merely just”them,”
and all because
they’ve never
clearly really been
quite close enough
to see
and understand,
lit thus
by “our”
elucidating light.

Think back,
maybe even way before
you entered here,
freed from
your newly broken sac,

to a time
before you sported skin,
and blood, and bones;
below, some toes,
(shaped somehow
like your close kin’s);
and head above,
eyes gazing deep and musing,

that distant time before your time,
when you were made of nothing,
nothing there to see at all
but for a giant quantity
of pristine love. . .

of this,
do think,
and tap into
that age-old you
who had a clue
how then, with “them”
to coalesce,
in stunning harmony–
each fiber of their being
and right into
just to accept–
+++++no strife, no mess–
to bring the best
you have to give. . .

And though it really
won’t look perfect,
maybe not to anyone,
you use it well,
+++++like a big, pink, tuneful seashell,
the whole wide world to bless,

and allow the greater
Realm of love,
to find all gaps
you may have left,

and It,
quick as a finger snap,
quite beautifully
fills in the rest.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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