the times take of one’s path

Though, to write, I muse,
as I get dressed, “it’s all
about me”, I proudly say—
speed makes me sloppy;
but in my mind
it must play out fair,
the balances of choice,
the sun wearing my face;
the doubt slouching my eyes—
so now that I know:
what is “influence”, God, as
I am now as I was before,
unchanged, though I grow;
I die, and my heart falls
along—the timed tale
of one’s path—so what
is this that still holds me?
so constant I take it granted
for what it is though I do best
to find a name and game
one can never lose, you
match the one to the one, and
what’s true to you follows through,
you “get what you deserve”: know
there are heights and depths
and breadths and light.
each will land where they fall,
so one loves stand strong,
no one else exists, you, true, see.

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