No. 1 x 1


    Destiny a winding road,


    Fate the culmination;


    To exist beyond such conceptions,


    A truer freedom none have touched.


    ~


    No. 2 x 1


    My bones are hollow, thin like the bird’s.


    But I cannot fly,


    Save for in my dreams.


    ~


    No. 3 x 1


    Whisper when you rebel against unkindness; I refuse, categorically-


    -speaking: following such a command would be foolish.


    Instead, I offer forbearance: twenty,


    Nineteen,


    Eighteen,


    Three,


    Run!


    It’s unfair, isn’t it?


    ~


    No. 4 x 1


    (It is fine to be stronger, more skilled and swifter than others;


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.And it is good to be confident, to know of one’s worth.


    But to lord and demean another for such differences-


    -to revel in the acts of a bully can never be worthy of admiration.


    Hold to integrity; it is the lifeline with which we might know:


    To trust or not to trust.


    I swear this.)


    ~


    No. 5 x 1


    If we knew the answer to life’s worth, I do believe there would be a disappointing dearth of care.


    The degree to which we mind another’s pain is already so low-


    -and our collective terribly slow in understanding why we should


    Mind that the mother struggles, painfully aware that her son’s stomach hurts.


    Giving a damn is sensible - and rarefied like Sinatra’s air.


    Yes, I do believe there would be a disappointing dearth of empathy.


    In the face of absolution-


    -the messiah might be here, and much of the citizenry would kick him to the floor,


    And they would spit-


    -and he might think his sacrifice was for naught;


    For why else would the people be so


    Empty


    ~


    No. 6 x 1


    Normalcy is not overrated.


    I think our sense of it has simply changed,


    And we are, each of us-


    -in our own way,


    Deranged;


    At least, according to the old guard.


    ~


    No. 7 x 1


    Talent speaks a language all its own:


    A tremendous silence filled with ease.


    (I do not mind having to make noise.)


    ~


    No. 8 x 1


    If Heaven is real, I think-


    -somewhat sadly


    That its gardens are scarcely occupied,


    Bereft of believers.


    Abuse is all too common.


    ~


    No. 9 x 1


    Smiling patterned rictus matter,


    Broken grey simple May,


    Wreaking seeking ample drinking,


    I would rather not take refuge in audacity.


    I hear their pillows are uncomfortable.


    ~


    No. 10 x 1


    Usurp the dragon-


    -breathe fire across the countryside estates,


    And make a home of their hoard.