They say be still child
For every drop of love you hold concealed within your heart will
Eventually
Find their oceans.

But ribs are cages

They say when we are young,
The wilderness in our chest will seem untameable at first but will
Eventually
Find its Peace.

Some too fearful to permit further damage to these wild hearts behind ribbed cages pose tranquility
In Romeo’s potions,
Inevitably finding numbness.

Yet strangely enough no matter how much light one sheds on the shadows,
“The world is a dark place” always

Then perhaps this concept of being still
much like procrastination
Is only to calm the seas for a moment

While the moon escapes...

To love the sun...

Eventually...
No More.