Title (optional)
could it really be that simple
to wake up one spring morning
with streaming golden sunlight
through a window pane

or to open our eyes
to a shower of cascading snowflakes
twinkling with delicacies
authentic like temperamental daises
the waft of lavender laughter
sweeping through the crack of a door

can we really decide one day
at a five o'clock traffic jam
or a forty five minute tram
even while listening to the pound of our hearts
as we jog along a stand of trees
or the comfort of one's warmth
have our breaths' taken away
at the sight of the mahogany sunlit
settling time of treacherous days

could it really be that easy
to decide what we would want to be
to entitle our own rightful marrow
and to know that even
as the second ticks on now
that there is that optional

and for one's life to be like a poem
there does not always have to be a title
there is no one else more qualified to give it
but by the heart of the individual

so give it second
or a day
or a lifetime
there doesn't have to be a label
one can have one
only if one wants to

it is not bad
nor is it good
it is what it truly is
wrought by simplicity and virtue
people do have chances
and people are not
categorized into laminated labels
we all think to be true
like the glossy illustrations
of pop magazines
contaminated by the idea
that people are
or aren't

people are, in fact
whoever
they want to be
and they can write their own poem
how ever they wish
help to ease
into modern hostility

just wait for their fingers
to reach for the pen
and to touch the precious ink
they have all been waiting
to see what they have
always known to be