I like rhymes
that call to each other
from a ways off, as if
having agreed to meet in a pathless woods, which I
have provided. A place for themselves
to get a little lost on the way
to appointments missed,
but casually determined to catch up late,
as catch can, unguided, or early
- surprised in the wrong time or place,
and not who they thought they'd be,
but finding it good enough - by ear,
either near, nor off. Occasionally
falling in measured step, unvexed
by perfection and setting out
from the trysting place
in search of their still
-searching friends, still echoing
in untimely calls through the wilderness,
no time to keep or waste, racing
or dawdling, falling
in where they happen and choose, or
chance, to fall - where they may,
as if all to the good
could be for the best.
And it can.
These rhymes don't seem much for schemes.
The innocent ends they seek, I guess,
are unencumbered by justified means.
And neither or so am I. I haven't decided
to intervene yet, and I rarely do,
more or less. These innocent rhymes
have eaten the fruit all through,
and consumed the knowledge of evil
and good for themselves, and remain unconfused,
and so say yes.
I look upon them, all asking why
as if already knowing the truth, and I say
it is probably just as well. Whatever day is today?
Let us give it a rest. Tomorrow,
let judgment fall. Let hell.
You dudes are okay,
and this day was well-spent,
and blest. If you let me
I think I will keep you all.
Just as you are,
just as you've fit yourselves
into this glorious, glorified mess.
You have made it a magic spell.
While we can, and before we know,
let us savor success.
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