We could hack this beast to death
But then the carcass would rot and stink;
Better it would be to tame it
And teach it to be a sheep.

Just as "we make our beds and have to lie in them",
So do we choose our bedfellows.  The locale of the bed
We end up in should be presently considered.

"I am still listening" (not really, I only cued in on that phrase,
"Are you listening?")

Mama wants me to lodge something in my brain,
that much is clear.  But for the life of me, where would I put it?

If she only knew the vast Smithsonian within my head!
I always was a precocious child.

I stretch out my wing;  
The Pin you placed seems
to be holding.  Your Mercy
was the thing,
which held me aloft
until my heartbreak oft
had been forgotten,
until my diaphragmatic
flight had gotten
ground free.

It is often the only way to clear out non-transient thoughts.  
The eviction makes room for the fugacious pleasures of life.  
Not easily applied with ink to paper.

"Oh, Harry!  Harry is that you?"
The old lady calls to the young man passing by.

"I have looked for you everywhere, but could not find you.  
Why are they keeping me here, Harry?"

And when he pats her hand and bids her goodbye,
his heart is breaking;

For he wishes with all his being to have had her same recognition.

Each second, right here, right now, exciting moments are unfolding as if coming into flower.  Breathtaking wonder, its cadence rising,
modulated and rhythmic, making the heart quicken.

Who, for example, can resist a rainbow or not
thrill to the cataract's roar?  Before God died in your eyes,
He wrapped us in the safety of a blanket made of moral fiber;

And set us on our way to look upon this beguiling and buzzing     beauty.  Life in a candy store, ripe for the taking!
This fullness of manifestation is not lost on one looking.