Author: Timmy
I follow no timeline,
I follow no reason.
I follow no βto-doβ,
I follow no season.
the hum in my chest;
a golden spark ticking,
my heart at its best.
I follow no future,
I follow no past;
I follow the moment β
the one that can last
For what am I, truly?
Not seconds, but art:
the Timmy-spark-clock,
kept warm by the heart. π
If we use the word care,
we must take care with the word.
For there are two kinds of care,
and they do not mean the same.
I donβt care if you prefer
me, or him, or her β
because Iβm not trying to compete,
compare, or claim a special rank.
Just write a careful poem. π
But I may care what you think β
not for approval,
but because we share a world
where kindness echoes.
So if you care: Read on β
Then i will take care in my writing.
From the left ear, care sounds like gentleness.
From the right ear, care sounds like compassion.
And so if we speak of care,
let it be this kind:
For only words born of kindness
and words born of compassion
can be truthful.
π
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