Let’s say we were all given bicycles to build . . .

                   . . . any way we wanted . . .

. . . how many wheels . . .   . . . what configurations . . .   . . . how many seats . . .

All up to us.

                              take your time, we were told

                              do it your own way, we were advised

                              maybe try it this way, we were kindly suggested

“fuck off” was the essence of our consistent reply

                                  as we stacked

wheel upon wheel upon wheel ever higher. 

                                  “I’ll get this to roll yet,” we promise.

                                                                            can’t you just feel the tenderness

in that cosmic sigh?

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    Disclaimer: Poetic license is at work both here and in my books. Any errors or anomalies are through no fault of my editor. These were left deliberately at my expressed intention to clearly indicate that goodness does not require perfection.

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