Capture my essence if you can,
Be I a saint, or a hit man.
Troubles are mine that you can own,
In the gutter or on a throne.

Grasp the wind and find me there,
Then give me a wink if you dare.
If you sense a wrong please be quiet,
Or else you might begin a riot.

There are some clouds that you might see,
My life, like yours was not all glee.
Step carefully around my dreams,
Which I tried my best to redeem.

My sea of life; hard breaking waves,
Trod if you dare, you must be brave.
See the good times, those days of mirth,
I, of the chaste, vaginal birth.

Amid the vortex of the wind,
You'll not find any let's pretend,
I stand above the shuck and jive,
I need not those for me to thrive.

After you've gazed into my core,
Like the Blues I have squeaking doors,
Unhand the wind, please let it go,
And now you're aware of my tao.

©September 16, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton