The instinct is to race
when patience and foresight
would let you win, live
in an otherwise dying world.

 

Far more hate
than understand it
or have the method, instinct
to learn the love
necessary to survive
when different, as we all are,
in this, a society of all,
small and pink.

 

Can I make the finish?
Do I know to believe they will
find the cure
to all the ills we make and accept?

 

In a single self
the instinct is to race
when steady overcomes the ripples,
and brings you to the daylight
endless in whisper and joy.