LIKE THE CHICKADEES

I so abstemiously, deliberately restrain myself from the Niagara Falls of social confrontations, as a stark silence meant for penance while one's organs bleed alive and die! I walk with hunched impatience, with a rambling moodiness, I toil incessantly at the uncertain decipherment of my own moodiness, and obediently necessary,

Among the cracked and reefed trees of my ribs, an over-fat, anxious heart is beating and trembling - through my skin, as if I were growing spikes of useless, untended hairs - that at least my conscience may remain clear, sound, and undisturbed! - The better, the fuller, and the greater half of my dazzling happiness

I have forgotten in my deer's eyes, and my inwardly cherished, too stubborn, too stubborn secrets I have no means to reveal! - I am always grumpy and grumbling, even at a timid, self-pitying mother-nature, like some corpulent old woman with bum feet, - 

a foolish, fickle, adolescent spirit: straining and struggling daily for Truth in this heart, whose only dreams of the future are unfulfillable - tangible proofs of deeds scarce! As one whose unfulfillable vulnerability, whose breakable fragility, is ever more biting, and is crushing me beneath it - I am a meek-master mason, I am filling up the errant, stumbling obstacles of my path myself - and even if my soul-growing concrete, my pebble nectar runs out: there is still need and must be plenty of the moonyard of gaping holes! Boyishly hurt, ever teary-eyed, chatty child - tell me when would you like to grow up? Your boundless self - you know very well - should be finished, should be realized! 

For in yourself with fullness-perhaps you can only go on - if you choose for yourself a heart-mate who will bear you!