yes we know you had 4
when houses were ten thousand a pop
before it became more important to own
a mortgage than a home

before children came with a price tag on their head
one that governed how much opportunity you can afford
to buy for each child

winners and losers
the great race to save nuts and

rising levels of greed surpass
rising levels of home prices
and the question of the day becomes
not how long can we keep this up?
but how long before reality catches up
to the american dream …

because something real and desperate
is more meaty than something fake and sure

gnaw the bones:
i have lived and loved
and seen the best and worst in humans

nothing dismays quite so much
as the bragging over children
and how that somehow equates to
a better view of the self

i don’t understand how that works
never did
it never computed to me how my individual
existence is supposed to augment
the existence of those who spit me out …

it just doesn’t matter
once you are an individual
your accomplishments (or lack thereof)
are your own

and some of us choose not to be
a mortgage, or own our children
because in the end
all you own is your time … taken to help
or to hurt

i have lived and loved
and seen the best and worst in humans
but the thing that gets me
is so many processes are bought and sold
that ceased to hold any value long ago

what gets me
is i can’t force anyone to understand
the dangers of envy

i can’t design a way to relegate the absolutes of pride
all i can do …
is say i’m so proud that you’re proud

while i feel a deep sorrow
that living must be vicariously performed
until levels of pride equal levels of emptiness
and i mourn

i wonder at what has been taken away
what opportunities
what love and pride in self-made construct

pity overwhelms me
and then guilt – for what part
of my own bloodline saw to it that
singular/individual dreams were quashed?

i hope the world holds better
for those needing pride in their children
i truly do
because i NEVER wanted anyone
EVER to say “i’m proud of you.”

i always thrilled more
to hear
“Good God, what have you done now?”

And i never know the answer to that.
It always comes out in the wash


for the love of God and pink ballet slippers in closed shoe boxes with blue lids

well, I weary over the attitude that as female, I must appear certain ways to be acceptable. and it all is time consuming, when i’d rather be … gardening. rather be doing something more productive with my time. but if I don’t take the time, to apply some lipstick and powder, to fix the hair — then the response to me is horrible! men will actively sneer at me as I walk down the street. i’m not even sure what that means. I just know that it stops if make myself up like some kind of window display with no soul.

I would rather spend my time productively. I don’t know what is so hard about that to understand. if men were socially forced to spend this much of their time primping, they would have a rebellion. or they would invent less time consuming ways.

I want eyeshadow on a stick, blush on a stick — I want a 2 minute face! but instead — the ones selling cosmetics, work to make the process MORE time consuming, and more complicated. and they are ridiculous and absurd. just absurd. as if any sort of valuable life is hinged around face paint ….. they need to wake up. the world needs to wake up and not be taken in by the whole song and dance.

it’s enough ……… we are at saturation level. my hip flexors are telling me we are at saturation level.

unless you have more money than god, to spend on all kinds of plastic surgery like marisa tomei — and look 25 when you are 50 — there is not much point in making yourself depressed over the inevitable. and function is necessary, but why are we building gyms when we should be building side walks and nature paths? communities where walking to your destination is commonplace. kill two birds with one stone — stop polluting the air with a car, and exercise the body at the same time.

eh ………… maybe we dream too big. maybe should be satisfied with loose hip flexors ? personally, I prefer to be satisfied with ice cream!

it’s a scam …. so many friggin scams ……….. the diet industry that made more people fat, to go to the gym industry, that made more people frustrated because they bought a membership and never use the gym. it’s all played. and I remember! I remember when I bought into the whole package! !!!!!! I do … the nautilus machines. and the round of diets that never worked. the nutra-system, that’s only good was it gave me an excuse not to cook. I eventually gave up, and reevaluated the premise. and it is, the premise is that you are not adequate the way you are. that you must spend your time on pleasing the eyeballs of others — because for some reason, that is what you were put on this planet to do.

and I take issue with that. if my most important contribution is my looks …. then I don’t want beauty. i’m not sure what I want, but i’m sure it’s not to play the role of a friggin’ mannequin. and i’m angry that I was played all those years, just desperate to be whatever it was that was out of reach. I was brunette, I wanted to be blond. I was fat, I wanted to be thin. I was tall, I wanted to be short. every single physical trait was turned into an insecurity. into a disbelief in the ‘rightness’ of yourself. my moment of change, the pivotal moment of change ……. was years ago, at hueneme pier. I was with a friend, neither of us svelte. and a man on the peer gave her a dirty look and said something mean about whales. I eyeballed him, and pronounced very loudly, “we are REAL women!” and I grabbed her hand, and we did this strut down the pier, while I repeated loudly to all who would hear — to the entire beach (I have lungs) ……. “WE ARE REAL WOMEN!” shortly after that, the big and beautiful movement started…

so that was a turning point. I changed that day — for the better. lost touch with my friend, but I think it changed her, too. you don’t get much opportunity to make a difference in the world, and i’m glad to know that for at least that bit — I made a difference. by god, yes — real women have curves, or don’t have curves. they are short, or tall, or happy or sad. are human beings. it’s not my fault, that others can’t see the truth. I take pride for what I do, not for what I look like. I feel good when I do something well, and the ‘feel good’ of primping to “look your best” ………… that is a false sense of achievement. much like the rings and bells of a slot machine is a false sense of achievement. especially after you spent more money than you just won.

I understand the need for wealth, and the greed that gives us this scam culture with ads screaming everywhere. and it’s depressing as hell. because we are constantly reminded of the greed of our fellow man. at the same time as being told constantly that our selves are inadequate. so many ads, and so much hope for discontent — i can’t go to the mailbox, without heaving a gigantic sigh. I think the next fad should be intelligence.

we agree, it’s just that I see the credit within the student reaching for more, rather than the teacher opening a path …. or I see the causality as fundamentally dependent on the student, rather than the teacher. there are differences in teachers, certainly. but you have to agree that some of the best lessons are from walking out on a bad teacher! lol … I have studied dance. had to take ballet, since grandmother had very similar career to yours. except after she performed, then taught dance, then she went back for her master’s degree and taught junior high art. I write, and design web pages, and I fix computers. but I have taught computer science at grade school level. loved it. kids were great, but of course it wasn’t hard to get them to like computers. and this was in the floppy disk days…..

so I don’t think teachers, or bad teachers, necessarily create a block to complex ideology. not my experience — because I learn from their badness. when a teacher makes fun of me for asking a question — I learned to get my own answers. so it’s not always intent equals result. a good teacher can provide the spring boards, to a hunger for knowledge or more exploration. but they can’t do that thinking for the student. they can’t command someone to ‘think outside the box’ — there is no perfect formula for endowing a human being with introspection. but you can set an example for a hunger of learning.

I think for many students, memorization is an easier path. that’s all there is to it. if a teacher gives them mostly what amounts to memorization and regurgitation — the response to lap that up is dependent on the student, not the teacher. the teacher is fulfilling a need, or concept. and that is the ‘safer’ route for the teacher, of course.

so the good teacher, is a brave teacher. one that throws caution and fear to the wind a bit. one that develops their own lesson plan, and asks their students to think, rather than to recite. however — you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.

so the learning to learn … the thirst for knowledge, for understanding and a slaking of curiosity. and the absence of explanation, that has the mind devising one of its own. the learning to learn — can eventually lead to a sort of unbridled thinking ability.

I just don’t see teachers as that powerful to magically grant creative thinking. they don’t construct minds. they let minds construct themselves. a good teacher does not seek cookie-cutter results, and instead responds to individuals with individual plans. I like to joke — that IF we all thought outside the box — then the INSIDE would be the outside, and we should all be crawling into the box to find our originality. part of being individual, and thinking outside the box — is to not use terms like “think outside the box” that everybody else is using in a wave of popularity. it’s a catch 22. a practically automatic hypocritical saying. and it comes down to a good question: what IS original thinking?

what is art? how do we apply creative solutions, when there is no acceptance of ACTUAL out of the box thinking? because we call that one mental illness, and feed them happy pills………….. if I decide the best exorcise for me, is to skip down the block every morning, how is that going to be seen?

no …….. the right and freedom to do and be what and however we will …….. whatever comes to mind as the best way to a destination ………… are blocked by societal norms, practices, and traditions. and therefore, are geared to benefit those who thrive according to those practices. and those who do not thrive, end up in many undesirable places. jail … hospitals and illnesses ……drug use, and abuse, and more than anything — misery. all because the things that would benefit THEM, are not part of the norm. are not part of what society does, practices, and preaches. so to get to a ‘better’ place for you, and your decedents — practices that benefit your kind need to be introduced. working to change norms and traditions is not an easy task. for one thing, you have to leave the misery long enough to discern what would serve you better, and then make that happen in society at large. it’s ridiculous to accuse a person of having mental illness — what they really have is an allergy to society.

I would like a world where everyone stepped out onto their front lawns and danced as the sun sets …………

I would like a world where animals are not in cages…..that includes people animals

I would like a world where more are free to contemplate the creation of untried solutions. to develop facets of living that are not copied, and repeated. to be an inventor of their own lives.

but instead we have monkey see, monkey do — that’s all the monkeys do. and “thinking outside of the box” is an ideology for creating change, for more to follow that creation of change. actual, individual intellectualism, is not focused on leadership or directions. but with what works for the self. the reality of awareness arrives, when the self DOES take a stand for what is in the best interests of the self. but not in a sheeple way — in a creative way never done before.

I studied early childhood education — and it’s really interesting the theories of exploration, and the ways of teaching to encourage that exploration. to give a path and way of letting the view fit the child. instead of forcing on them some tired, collective view. well……………. I just think it’s more up to the student, than the teacher. it depends if they want short cuts, or if they want an open mind that takes the long road and might never get there. I respect people with clear cut goals. I believe that is what they needed for their lives. but I won’t sit down and talk to them like this — on deep, abstract matters. I can’t. most get uncomfortable. change the subject. I have fun with it ……. count how many minutes, before they point and exclaim what a pretty cloud ……. makes me sort of laugh. eh ……… so I guess I would like a world where people could discuss deep and important subjects, without doing a mental-freak-out. it’s easier to joke. but I get tired of everything having to be a joke, to express any depth.

it would be nice to be real. for intellectualism to not be taboo. for some kind of common I could find more often — I get tired of the deep thoughts having to be alone-thoughts. I just want the world to change and fit ones like me, that do better when they can discuss very deep, philosophical questions and ideals. I can appreciate the intricacy of small talk. even the skill………… and it does leave you more energized and less worn out.

but then i’m left with my questions. i’m outside of the box ….. and no one’s meeting me here. I can write. that has to be good enough.

pulling on blue



seethe with jealousy

what if this is the afterlife

heaven and hell together

and those in hell remain jealous
exist within envy
encased in a flatness
of resigned supplication

do not wish for anything
hurt the dreams of a better
future of cleaner air and no longer hard
to breathe

of a smarter people when college is free

the purpose is to destroy …beauty
because people hurting in hell are not able to
help themselves and can only feel better if
others are worse?

not liberated
or free
they must do as told to succeed
choice was waved for deceit
decision was traded for loyalty

sometimes i hold still
and feel nothing
only the time distance between every breath

memory flows
is built
with new realizations
windows of exclamation
continually and constantly learning
as now weaves timelessly into then

beauty a tree
holding earth and sky locked together

quietly listening to the universe
laugh inside out

fluctuations for good are considered meant
fluctuations for bad are considered accidents

Saturday Sermon number 4 because i feel like today is Saturday

ha! that’s well put. chaos is the only answer to fractal repetition. the beauty of the untended garden. opposition is a difficult ground on which to place definition.

at one point, i took it all the way to the “big bang” of opposition creating the start of everything ordered in the universe. it didn’t work.

freedom must see beyond the cage of our own bilateral balancing act. the difference between a circle and a sphere? a linear that must be straight, otherwise is it only one part of a very large circle. the up and down of measured existence, even in time.

human interaction is not only messy, it must be messy. otherwise, the predictive nature calls forth machine, not man. that is where my hopes live. i bought a measuring cup yesterday. force myself to cook without one, for the most part. measurement is only as good as the consistency of the ingredients themselves. then are caught in requiring consistency. and then what is boredom? lol…

people trade in uncertainty for boredom. fear …. survival …. power. i light up a cigarette and reread my words. think about my need for the soap box and what that means. i know how to reach for freedom, how to not force a garden, how to leave the ordered state and simply enjoy life. it’s the little things. but they need room, and need to be as far away from despair as possible. that is one opposition that is worthwhile to maintain. recognize the roots of your despair. find where it lives. then go ok, that is the NOT.

i have sat in cells, pumped with drugs that eradicated my imagination. you don’t realize how dependent you are on that, until it is gone. until the moment in which you live, is the moment that is forever. until despair itself has no roots. what i found there was the emptiness of ordered existence at the mercy of others. once i comprehended that human beings will purposely work to keep something alive just to torture it … once i opened myself up to that realization. that depth. i knew that i myself could never hold on to anything as permanent. the flux and flow of life is the opposite of evil. chaos is the redemption that tells us fear and order make poor bedfellows.

look for what has no pattern until it has a pattern. then look at patterns. look at how anxiety drives us to require imagined predictability. and then be thankful to all the heavens, that life is everything that is not predictable, and more. the difference between a circle and a sphere? those things that test our imagination. after all, chaos might simply be another form of order. life might be the complete cage, where predictability reigns, and the only reason it’s not quantified is the inability of the mind to do so. i think about that. then i’m glad i’m not.

in some ways, reaching for more knowledge can be a path to greater despair, as attached to the “laws” of the reactive process surrounding us. when reactive processes can be a comfort – like the crowds dressing in warm coats at winter. there is an expectation, that it cycles and circles. that the opposite of cold will always be warm. but without that inner part of yourself, that can form its own reactive processes and go against all that is considered necessary. when you entertain the other paths, then the path you are on is a choice, not an obligation.

and the need for predictability is your own expression of love for others. to comfort expectations for the sake of calm. to be something that is considered non-threatening, and to hold off applying your own realizations for the moment that calls for them. which is sometimes never.

the quail have come onto my patio, looking for food and water. and they left. i find their calls comforting. the natural order of their existence that has a pattern to me, and yet i know that is more due to my ignorance than due to any innate repetition. i don’t speak quail.

life is too short. but it’s length is beside the point. what makes me happy, in this world of chaos and order, is that freedom is just a word for a concept much larger than any definition maps. the irony is that we have one word, and then spend lifetimes of trillions of words to describe the one. the irony is that we have dictionaries at all. the sharing of thought is fascinating for its forms, not for its content. we all live in the same reality, even if some theirs is special. so what is special? singular … original?

it’s the need for that, not the manifestation of its action. it’s the need for art, and the further exploration of the self. the ability of the self to survive. to take the moment. to pause in typing, and listen to the quail. to smile. to know — deep down inside — that there is maybe a God and maybe not a God. that order is something perceived, not necessarily something that actually manifests. that human understanding is always going to be limited. that freedom is not so much the dissolving of limits, but the mapping of where those limits are necessary.

number one, there is no such thing as limits for intelligence. you learn. you learn to learn more. the pathways in the brain grow. you exercise logic, you don’t create it. there are points in that journey, where despair hit me like a rock. i recall sitting in the bath tub, picturing all … all … as it spiraled to greater and back again. there was no freedom of the linear. only mistaken freedom. that was at the stage. once i exercised the mind beyond that realm of concept — i saw greater interactions that lead away from despair.

it’s like they say, that the in between of comprehension is what will allow insanity to bite you in the ass. how can you advise others to take your own “path” to enlightenment, when you know how many pits it contains? each has to find their own. i’m no closer to “correct” than a snail climbing a rock away from the rain. reactive states of being.

the important thing to realize, is that we can think alike. we can act alike. but it is the differences that save us from ourselves. it is the opposition of differing magnitudes. it is the fact that something pisses me the hell off, and you only see me — want the human being you care about to be “happy.” to focus on the joys, and leave that which can drag a mind down …be. i understand, and appreciate the degrees of love, the degrees of caring. my view is singular to my existence, just as yours is singular to your own. i even quantify “caring” as manifestations born out of perceived states.

chaos and order. circles and spheres. the imagination is a very rich playground. the artist is not a role, it’s a reaction. only fits a form, if that is the form you use.

i can imagine other worlds. mostly i wonder about a world of expression that is not limited to the lowest common denominator of the receiving end. where it all attaches, the male and female of “the plug.” the representation born through so many ‘inventions’ of man and his industry. the fascination. the fact that as adults, we still get mired in the investigation of our own body parts. the foundations and framework of initial comprehensions.

it’s why poetry says so much more, by saying less. it’s why we don’t need definitions for words. we need words that defy definition. it’s why the good in life is the unexpected. why i look at polka dots on a purse, and smile. why there is no right way to live. only a right way to live with others.

i sat in that cell, and faced the deepest horrors of human action. and that horror was not from expanding vision. it was from limiting the mind itself, to the mindset of others. to break free from that, is to challenge your own ability to love. to let some things go. to live not just for your own comfort, but in the awareness of what helps or harms. chaos and order, the way of law and the mapping of reactions to degrees of fractal that only implode on themselves into greater detail.

have to be able to let that go. feel the sunshine, know that life itself is a beauty that defies any categorization. all of science itself, only marches blithely onward to a perceived ideology of stasis. the wonder of it all, is that i know how ordered states absolve fear. the reason i don’t fear life, or death, or even what next year will bring for our country. why i do not fear, is because my mind moved beyond that. i had to place myself into a state of hope that ranges past any “faith” in man and the limits we impose on each other.

part of me wants to give that to others. part of me knows i never can. each has to do with their own culminations of joys and sorrow. i now my answer to those that like to perceive me as flawed, as crazy — my answer is to feel pity for the minds that are caught in perceptions of order imposed upon them by fear — fear generated and accepted into their own hearts. from others, from life that taught them that nothing is fair. that struggle is the antidote to emptiness.

i pity out of genuine understanding, have moved through that state to where i exist now. which is not a place of loneliness, though you could call it a reaction to that. it’s a place where i get that i’m not anything special in this world. that the world has to be special to me. that the question was NEVER “does God love me?” the question, is if i love God. how you show that, then — is how life turns on something more than what you can give and what you can get.

the concerns of rich and poor, wealthy and destitute. the search for meaning. life brings us to so many crossroads. often i think it is the INNS at those crossroads that matter, not the destinations that span out. that spell our choices. our justifications that are based solely on interpretations of pattern and laws that are merely abstract designs, in the first place.

the reason i write, is because it gives my thoughts someplace to live. i can take one detail to heart’s content. limited only by my own perception of how long any sane person would listen. how far any would follow on my questionable trains of thought. many times, we hope joy is that thing everyone finds, even if it means finding it out of innocence. i don’t believe in that. i don’t believe in protecting others from reality. years ago, i named this blog, “from an otherwise sane perspective.” what i place here is the crazy. what i keep unsaid is the sane.

when the world has decided that i embody a defect of “crazy” — then i will take that and make it look sane to you, and ask you why you think you are so different than me? why do you believe that my actions had no purpose? because they certainly have had their impact. where it goes, nobody knows. that’s the beauty.

that’s why my poetry is where you will find the decisions. the bump to myself, where i challenge even my deepest comprehensions according to their framework. we all have lives to live. the world has collectively decided to disregard mine as unimportant. so i made it important on a differnt level. i decided to write on this blog, and that only happened because someone formed wordpress. because someone followed the ‘norm’ and were good little citizens and started a business. how can i NOT appreciate that?

therefore i let it go. my ‘spot’ in this world doesn’t matter. my view of order or chaos, and the click of the typing as i work to slow things enough, to put them into a form that can be “shared.” just love it when someone says “thanks for sharing” …lol. sarcasm … being put through a mind for no use. nothing to show for the time spent. in some ways, with the title of this blog, i warned of that. at one point i removed the “from an” and made it “otherwise sane perspective.” the definition that is a word. the word that is Eileen. or me. whatever that happens to be at the moment.

life gives you lemons, and you make lemonade. well i stockpiled the dumb things, and there’s a lot of juice to be made. life is too short. art is forever. we were all “given” the ambitions that drive and motivate from one day to the next. but in my understanding, people only appear to be ‘sheep’ when you do not know them. you get beyond the surface, and the details are always there.

that is why i don’t despair, over the state of man, or his search or denial … why i let the garden grow with both its chaos, and its order. it’s easy to quantify reaction. not so easy to multiply that by the diverse nature of man himself.

i have other memories, besides the cell where i met reality. the punishment i got for being “different.” in contrast, i have the memory of gripping a boogie board, waiting in the ocean for a wave. waiting for the “perfect” wave — judging what is good. what won’t work. sometimes the good ones get past you. but the JOY of that memory, is not in the riding the wave part. the joy is in the bobbing in the ocean, the wait that caused me to slow down. to LOOK at the world. to see the beauty and weep … just weep for every single thing that is given.

every single moment that gives me gratitude for the next. no, i don’t think humans need to order much more of the world into predictable little snippets. i want to set them free. i want them to see that it isn’t crazy, if you have a reason.

i will go first, for survival. but sacrifice is what you do, when love leaves and you ask yourself where it went. painful matters of the spirit are only ghosts, the manifestation that just needs a good wind to blow it out and away. and physical is different. discomfort, and the far reaching power of medicine, and the industries that tell us “if you don’t have your health, you have nothing!” and then they call challenges of the spirit, “mental health.” all kinds of manipulation, with all the insults to even the average intelligence.

i think about that, and the work to move people into states of behavior that will benefit the self. in so many ways, it is the inescapable nature of man. then the only question becomes, who are you dealing with? friend or foe?

at some point in the future, i imagine how the code of pattern i have woven into every word placed here, will be cracked. that the message is not the words and their definition, the message is their music. i look at the future as the friend. i look at hope as the companion necessary for my existence. whether it be in a cell, or on an ocean. you all have a really good new years, though i’m not sure of the person that put us on this merry go round in the first place. it’s a dead end into despair. but celebration has its own divinity in the scope of things. i can appreciate that. i also know that every day is another day for one like me. i fear boredom more than i fear the wrong designs that lead to multiple cases of despair. i want surprises, i want the polka dots on a purse. what i never want is your pity.

what i never want, is scorn that determines i was ‘born bad’ — what can you do? NO ONE IS BORN BAD. GOD DON”T MAKE JUNK. i can see that. i don’t care if you can see that or not.

when i walk to the store, i don’t want pity from those who drive. i don’t want them believing that i am not capable of changing my own state of existence, because “been there, done that.” it’s only exploration if the path you forge is new! i don’t want pity for the crap i’ve undergone in the past. that’s not my goal. go feel sorry for the people selling barbie dolls at the swap meet. but don’t feel sorry for me. i am always where i need to be, and what i want from you is to change the crap that’s being dished out, that is being called ‘normal’ with no thought to the consequences of collective action. “sorry” doesn’t heal someone like me. what heals, is seeing real changes that impact lives for the better.

that’s why i side with the left, and going forward, not going backward. sometimes the death of a master is freedom. if God oppresses you, then killing “God” frees you. “been there, done that,” too. i want to see you smile at the birds — not be carefree like them. because there’s no such thing as carefree.

and circles are for the birds. boredom is for sissies. i never did learn to speak quail, but in my defense there were no quail where i grew up, and so i understand seagull speak, instead. a plaintive bird, the seagull. grey when young, white when they grow old and greedy. they are both brave, and beautiful. i know i am no beauty. i’m not trying to be beautiful, i’m trying to find what looks beautiful to ME. the woman who would watch me stop and admire her roses … who would come outside with a pair of clippers, and cut some and hand them to me. see, THAT was beautiful. it needed no words. a gesture of good faith. friend or foe?

my best achievement is when i shut up, and listen. but when all i did was listen, you all decided i had nothing to say.

balance on the downward slope

thankfulness counteracts self-pity
many ways to come up
and out

of those
woe is me

though don’t fall into them
myself much these days
you think about those things in life
that spell out good fortune

i suppose much of it is
in the contrast
to others and other circumstances

but just being grateful can rise above
the whole problem of “feeling better
because others are in a worse state”

after all
that kind of … way? type of living
is counter-productive to the whole
it requires that others are in worse
just so that you yourself can feel better

and isn’t that a shame? is wrong
on so many levels

but being grateful or living with
a thankful heart can be independent
from the fortunes of others

it can happen no matter what level
of fortune you are on
or bound-for

it could happen even if all
were at the same state
in the same boat

impervious, really

to look out at the world
breathe in
and thank God (or yourself, for that matter) for your existence
for the moment that allows
not only an appreciation
of the beauty of nature…

but allows for the appreciation
of the next moment
and the next …

pain makes that difficult
i fall short many times
crawl into a hole
pull my rock over it

but i try to recall
what it means to hope

to find the mind looking at
bigger pictures
but also at directions
… places
realities that are possible
if we all go from HERE

and i pick myself up
again and again
reminded to be grateful

even for the stumbles
for the stumbles, the trips
the falls

the lessons that eventually
smooth a path
for a wisdom-like tolerance
or close as someone like i can get

i suppose … the flux and flow
the ability to recall
all the caring you ever had

every caring that ever blessed your being
and then smile at
how nothing is foolish
if done with heart