Do not ask why you are here, Treading the waters of a Planet leaving tears on the Straight razor held Firmly to her throat by her Children.
You are here to dance your life Out from birth to dust On the floor between Satan and Seraph, between kind and Selfish. Between Poet and predator.
Know that a light heart, love For yourself and others; a Whispered gratitude for the Smallest of things, is the tallest Tree in Paradise. Anger is an axe.
And fear. Fear is a chainsaw. See the flower; ignore the Thorns. Look past the hurtful comment; More often than not, it was a tickle, Not a slap.
Be the finger that begins the easing Of the grip around the razor's Handle. Form an open hand upon The face of our blue mother. Kiss her. Kiss her every sweet Tear of relief.