Ah, you are worthy of
a zillion things. . .

but you must choose
the ones you want,
and use them well,

with heaven’s care,
with sweetest words
and tending deeds,
that they will know
no matter what the others see
or hear
that you may tell.

Your little body
had a
has a
great big voice. . .

it got,
it gets obscured,
you were well trained,
you were
from your own wants and needs
and preferences
quite inured,

till your true voice
had not the peep
of the most
tiny, lonely,
baby bird

but you can find it,
deep inside
and learn from now
gently and cheerfully
to mind it,
love it,
soften it,

for though
you to
some more complex
or duplicitous fix
you might be lured,

to do other
than to heed
your beat of heart
and let it
by your own ear
and outer world be heard

would be a sort of tragedy,
and of nature,
kin to a theater
of the absurd.

So close your eyes,
and see those dreams,
fill your heart,
your head,
your spirit soul
with your very personal
a zillion things,

and lay them open
so you can smile and see
and share
the shining, brilliant,
rich, whole lot
of everything that you have got,
that joys no end
both you and them
to the degree
you each
hear every single timbred pitch
when all of your
glad heart strings sing.

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

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