If you return,
do not knock,
the door has memorized your hands.

If you leave,
do not turn back,
the wind carries only forward.

Standing at the portal
Of the massive stone engender
Clenching as the sweat
Runs down the sinews of my arm,
Glaring at the enemy's
Rendition of surrender
And knowing, well within,
Why he means to do me harm.

Watching so acutely
For the sliding of his eyeball
Inching to the left
In a slithering advance,
Waiting for the quiver
Of deception's feint, so ribald,
Then lunging with the blade
At his severanced last dance.

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Advised me,
Keep your ears long,
Your tongue short
Eyes open ,
Now my friends call me a wise owl.
2/3/2025

Oftentimes,
A poet doesn't lift their pen daily,
It's better to write nothing,
Than force something out.

As well for the fact,
Some things are best left unsaid,
This world is a rocky streambed.