There are many things I cannot control.
Things which perhaps I ought.
Waves gently lapping, seeping under sand,
Become curling riptides without warning.
Some bright swelling in your chest,
Love redolent with bubbling laughter in your throat.
Or maybe the sudden sharp sadness
That some knowledge can also bring.
But if you can manage to torque yourself
Just right, as you are falling,
You can glace off in new directions
Sliding as a skipping stone
Until the next time you are pulled under.
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