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.