[Corner-turning] {where I’m (finally) at}

Turning corners ain’t like

spying out valleys

or hills that bill their futures against

their downsides, and their

upsides against their tawdry duties,

and the grinding authority

of unthriving surviv[e]-

al[l];

turning corners is far more

like turning pages

of books you never realised were

so fabulously wrought that

everything they taught you

was going to be

a change

for

your being and your seeing and your

doing, and your life

and your every-

thing and your

singing and your

song.

And the harmony of turning

a corner you never knew

did exist,

with the decided help of decided

people, and the

support and love and expression-

ful[l] reality of knowing that

actuality is truer than it ever was;

and that your chaste-like kisses

and embracing

hugs (for there are many kinds of hugs

and not all do embrace) did pull me

back from the edges of “dis”

pairing and from those moments

when I truly

felt the madness of other

de facto 

un

caring,

means wherever the future now

takes me so wisely,

the love I now sense in this

treasure-

d chest of

magicked won-

[dro]-

us does just make me real-

i-

se[e]

how lucky I am to be a man

with a life, on this rock

and this planet, where

people do love and

people do hate and

people do mate and

people do rate and

people do skate thinly between

fear and apprehension,

until one day we do learn to

fear anything but loving the

love of these

others who – good Lord! –

might love me!

 

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