The path is not a long one,
and not without its pitfalls, as you know,
we learn as we proceed though,
and for the most part just keep marching on.
Once underway we search,
eyes focused on horizons, ah so far,
and then, we meet them, one by one,
just hustling to and fro, as if they truly knew.
Now, some of us are hoarders,
count yours truly superfragilistically in,
I know to pick 'em now,
collecting them like toys or special stamps.
A hoarder cannot split them,
those thoughts of souls and living flesh en route,
I could, if you were of a mind to join our rounds,
let you preview my set, formidable as it must be.
There is a system, I've devised,
each body, as collected will be classified,
dimensions wait to be assigned the souls,
of those who truly rattle me to unknown depths inside,
there will be one, her eyes the image of two burning coals,
and I will spoil her unashamedly and have her privatized.
And if no sparks are visible at night,
the tops are turned and I shall be subservient, for sure,
this will require new dimensions, and a brighter light,
and an assessment just to diagnose the brew, and if it's pure.
No entity, once deemed to have the worthiness that's sought,
shall ever be discarded, sent away or (God forbid) declared for naught.
Enjoyed this read...Gave my mind a mellow stroll. Dorothy A Poet Who Loves to Sing