It’s not grand
It’s actually small,
similar to a sparrow
caprice and narrow
to love and ignore
be a thug or a doll
in the box of sand
it the sky or in hand
the pesky, greedy bird
eager for eternal flight
to end up in external fright
and it might break out
the shit has done worse
it’s an unbreakable curse
and hottest of blessings
it’s good, but it’s messy
fierce, but foolishly soft
not the best there is
and is pain to convince
or to keep perfectly steady
but it’s ready to be loyal
till the last pulse it emits
if the chosen one fits
into the twisted reality
it will become gravity
and the brazen Universe
hoarding treasures
for its chosen pleasure
anything without denial
wish the world’s peace
or the worlds on fire –
just decide and ask
it’s up for any task.
So, there’s that …
sounds, like a cat
in a very thick sack
But here it is
if you want it, that is.