An end for every beginning.
The price of being; to one day
Not. Still some eat their cake
To keep it.

I have been more mis- than
Understood in my life.
I speak in symbols, meta-thoughts.
Poetry is

Not for the ones who imagine
Grudges so they have something to
Hold. All I know is that this ****
Plane will

Refuse to go down with us in it.
If it stops, it stays up here
Until we make up our minds to
Land and keep loving. Or jump.