Not wrong.
Let he who wants to shame a thing begone.
Not awkward – comfortable.
Not out to shame a brother’s passions
nor the darkness of a son.
He’s flown through much -
and where he perches now embraces touch
and afters many glows,
observing all below,
beneath, offsides – up comes another
brimming up with pride,
with courage and with honesty
that shapes into a melody
their demons’ rueful drone. I come
to practice what he preaches:
you’re enough, you’re all right,
you deserve to love
and be rejoiced
as heartful bodies beat about,
carouse for fleeting answers
‘midst our economic, existential doubt.
A hand to hold, if big on tiny,
ratchets up the links-made count by one,
the only sign of hope under the sun.
He’s cloudy, rainy-eyed,
alive, aloof, and wise -
knowing beauty’s many faces,
shall not suffer a disguise.
Voice that beckons new beginnings,
how I hear! How I can’t wait to pour
more honey in your ear.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 4:31 PM UTC
Not wrong.
Let he who wants to shame a thing begone.
Not awkward – comfortable.
Not out to shame a brother’s passions
nor the darkness of a son.
He’s flown through much -
and where he perches now embraces touch
and afters many glows,
observing all below,
beneath, offsides – up comes another
brimming up with pride,
with courage and with honesty
that shapes into a melody
their demons’ rueful drone. I come
to practice what he preaches:
you’re enough, you’re all right,
you deserve to love
and be rejoiced
as heartful bodies beat about,
carouse for fleeting answers
‘midst our economic, existential doubt.
A hand to hold, if big on tiny,
ratchets up the links-made count by one,
the only sign of hope under the sun.
He’s cloudy, rainy-eyed,
alive, aloof, and wise -
knowing beauty’s many faces,
shall not suffer a disguise.
Voice that beckons new beginnings,
how I hear! How I can’t wait to pour
more honey in your ear.