Find, each day,
a way to live
that means,
that when you die
a little bit,
it’s not a time
to fight against,
nor to give up–
not at once–
into your earthly
final rest,

but a time
you will discern
what you
and what all else
may have to give,

and then,
you’ll find
what yet
you have
to do
and learn,
to bloom into
your natal, natural
very best.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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