Courage lands on nimble feet,
cries for all it's caused.
Brevity winks before it sinks,
and shows you what you've lost.

Showing the way can only help the seeing,
and for the blind I ask,
How do we jump, and where, and why,
so as this to not be the last.

And if I so as question myself,
I beg to shelter the defeat,
and if I so as blink to myself,
a teardrop falls to your knee.

And I wonder when and I wonder how
a blessing such as mine
could itself in the dark or day
be just a blessing and only so kind.

For fortune's found and spun in thread,
and should you so much as ask,
a moth hits the bulb and a silence shrieks,
and the moth and one is dead.

For God forbid you question your fate
or the others of those you love,
for the devil or something close,
swings the cursed wing of a dove.

As the blanket chills and the spool unwinds
and the machine left to its tide,
a scissor cuts and a blush rusts
upon the clasp upon the line.

And courage sits upon the sill,
and begs when it can speak,
and brevity breaks for only a second,
and the words can finally creak.