allow it less
from the
beckoning bait
that gets us in a mess,

and more
from what heals, makes whole
and constitutes,
for any holes punched through our heart,
the cure.

For we still have
+++++our songs to sing,
+++++and flights to fly
++++++++++on our as-yet-untested wings,
+++++and roots to sink
++++++++++fathoms more deep
+++++and kin and friends
++++++++++with whom we’ve
++++++++++plenty more good time to spend,
++++++++++including those
++++++++++we’ve yet to meet.

So don’t get over curious,
and veer too far
toward the teetering and precarious,
if you would like
long and strong
life to endure,

And instead,
locate the place
to build a life
on solid ground
that’s far more apt
to prove itself,
more level,
smooth and sure.

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

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