SLIPPED THROUGH MY FINGERS, HELD MY TONGUE

That does it.

Slipped
right through my fingers.
Held my tongue.
Come quips and queues.

A sting that lingers. . .

No matter–

Just calm and lull
the present chatter
then pause a breath
fill up to brim,
and void your lungs,
for one quick rest. . .

Then,
feel the strength
that that imbues,

and use it to
climb up onto
that one next rung,
where you will get
much fairer and much broader views–
I promise you–
I do not jest.

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