Time is of the Essence.

Essence begets time.

It doesn’t take a whit of prescience
to see
there’s more work here
cut out for me
than finding the next rhyme.

Heels must
dig in;
roll up sleeves,
to form the base mundane,

breath must fuel me
feel all the feelings
the ones brand new
and those
felt for the hundredth time–

laughter, sorrow,
fear of now
and of tomorrow,
anxious over what I have
or what yet I will
go to beg or steal or borrow,
in aim to catch up from behind,

before I finally realize
that what I seek’s
already here
all I need do
is notice it,

so that the Universe will grant
my sheer delight
in the sublime.

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