This stanza soon comes to an end.
I once again shed my pretend
interests of trickling growth.
For it sees mostly what it acquires,
rather on what the heart inspires.
It's changed my path from light to mire,
where I can hardly dance.
And I seek love, flow, music, dance,
to ignite in passion, to be entranced
within each moment, to take every chance
on what I truly feel.
So I lift up these long-bored feet
and walk away on a frisky beat:
my heart's, soon to feel complete
when it need not conceal.
What's real.
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