Breath in , breathe out
Lighting in , Lightning out
To sad , too much

anyone else have anymore to add ?

I thank God for friends like you
who live their lives in simple truth

They help a friend along the way and count their blessings everyday

They found love is not in word but deed
and care enough to plant the seeds

that grow into a friendship deep They live to grow and play to keep.

So don't let the years twist the truth
Just keep on being friends like you.

They will tell you there is a right way.
They will hand you a torch and call it the sun.
They will roll their words in raw linen and whisper:
"This is what poetry is meant to be."

And you will nod.
Because they have made it so that not nodding feels like blasphemy.

But listen—
the ink does not check your credentials.
The meter does not ask if your suffering is organic.
A line does not collapse because it was crafted instead of bled.

They will tell you a poem must be naked, barefoot, aching—
as if there is no beauty in a well-cut suit.
They will decry the temple and build a pulpit in its ruins,
preaching freedom in a voice that allows no dissent.

Good poets are cult leaders,
and the first rule of the cult
is that they are not one.

So write the sonnet, carve the sestina,
sculpt the page in iambic steel.
Or break it, shatter it, scatter its bones—
but let no one call your wreckage untrue.

And if they do,
smile.
Because poetry does not kneel to priests.

Being simple
is very hard
that's why
people easily lose heart

who would be willing to let go
of their cherished comfort-zone?
in their anxiety and fear, doing so
would mean themselves they no longer own

such is typical human nature
which is insular and self-directed
with its boundary clearly drawn
every move carefully calibrated

over time, the self hardens
change is no longer possible:
it has been cast in the hardest steel
and is no longer malleable