A chalice
of cheap plastic
with peeling gold paint
Beckons me
Folded slips
fortune cookie hearts
On the podium
The sign reads
Words of Wisdom
Squeezing my eyes tight
Until darkness becomes
swimming color
afraid curiosity
will pry them open
My touch is met
by creamy paper
each one whispering
pick me, pick me
a fingertip brushes along their edges
My wandering fingers
finally capture a slip
The spell is broken
The slip reads:
"You have something to say, I promise"
After weeks
Spent wedged between pages
Of a random notebook
It flutters to my bedroom floor
defying gravity for just a second
Before kissing the smooth wood
Curious
Glancing at the laptop screen
my own words of wisdom
typed neatly in Arial
to comfort
a fellow young writer
Fate,
or coincidence?
Flying fingers press keys
Forming words of wisdom
I didn't even know I believed
So while we may not know
exactly what we want to say
Yet
We will spend
Everyday of our lives
Figuring it out
It's okay
If it takes a while
Because when we have found
ourselves
our truths
Each word will have been handpicked
From an expansive grove
Of golden fruit
Each one singing
a solitary note
Dripping with nectar
of all flavors
Blood from our souls
That will flow off our tongues
Slip down our throats
And wind their way around our hearts
And together
we will sing
our heart songs
made of caramelized
words of wisdom
of cheap plastic
with peeling gold paint
Beckons me
Folded slips
fortune cookie hearts
On the podium
The sign reads
Words of Wisdom
Squeezing my eyes tight
Until darkness becomes
swimming color
afraid curiosity
will pry them open
My touch is met
by creamy paper
each one whispering
pick me, pick me
a fingertip brushes along their edges
My wandering fingers
finally capture a slip
The spell is broken
The slip reads:
"You have something to say, I promise"
After weeks
Spent wedged between pages
Of a random notebook
It flutters to my bedroom floor
defying gravity for just a second
Before kissing the smooth wood
Curious
Glancing at the laptop screen
my own words of wisdom
typed neatly in Arial
to comfort
a fellow young writer
Fate,
or coincidence?
Flying fingers press keys
Forming words of wisdom
I didn't even know I believed
So while we may not know
exactly what we want to say
Yet
We will spend
Everyday of our lives
Figuring it out
It's okay
If it takes a while
Because when we have found
ourselves
our truths
Each word will have been handpicked
From an expansive grove
Of golden fruit
Each one singing
a solitary note
Dripping with nectar
of all flavors
Blood from our souls
That will flow off our tongues
Slip down our throats
And wind their way around our hearts
And together
we will sing
our heart songs
made of caramelized
words of wisdom
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