I want to scream, make a scene,
beyond the mean, a new shot clean
where wrestling is no struggle
nor the options I juggle.
The pin of my creative pen
is power to stop, begin again.
My mind, sometimes blind,
no longer to leave me in a bind.
I’m bound to the sound
that leads me to the ground
at the cross I found, now sound
even when not strong or am wrong.
Salute to rising and improvising.
Learning as I go
to learn new ways, not ego.
Creative and combative
Ear to the ground, as a native.
Now passion to fashion a heart of compassion
Permission with condition to position the volition
that I continue in the venue of the Eye
that clears the sky that will not die
except to be with me