Every Fool makes change her best friend
Eventually, but the tempo of it is another
Quality that I must come to terms with finally.
I can only take so much transformation before
My nerves will crack like the fragile shell
Of a Kosmic Egg falling from that proverbial
High wall built from my numerous mistakes.

As I drift through life, becoming more aware
Of the oncoming traffic, the pace attains a
Certain balance and I notice that my mind
Runs on the fuel of limitation and measure
That I used to resist and refuse out of something
Like jealousy, as if I could control my world
So much better by rushing along or bearing down

On the egg myself, like a snake biting its
Own tail. I’ve come to understand the alchemy
Of getting my hands out of the pot while the
Brew is boiling, and the necessity of lids.
There are times for expression and times for
Privacy and appreciating the difference makes
Way for lust and containment for my heart’s still.

copyright (c) 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson

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