Song,

Song,
That embrace of a beat/a melody
Much more steadied than our own.
I know how to be good, though
Lessons, when learned, are
But still worthwhile, if for
No other reason than a means
To relive humility.

Cold feet, more foot, knows
There is warmth in being covered, though
Finds an ability to breathe more appealing;
The world knows not me, and I little
Of the world, thee, who witness, staring,
Blank to let me fill your needs with fancy’d
Words, turned phrases, plead[ing]s to be
My witness. And, I begin with you, as you me,
In hopes far more exists in land of poetry
Than word, but written, or history; we wish
For future, more, who we are, to receive clarity.