The Mode Less Babbled Poem by Nat Z. Punx

when the days of your promise
become your unclaimed bounty
you might feel
some sort of loss
for things you never had

when you have some sort of empathy
for the gifted
as well as the downtrodden
you might feel some sort of solace

when you come to the point
where solitude becomes
neither goal
or phantom-beast

you might sit here
embracing decadence
facing greed
neither revolted
nor attracted

you may be able to see the wonder
that one sees in the stars
in the faces of the common
and outstanding

knowing this is all yours
to do with as you will
as you please

and you may want to do
as i am
sharing with whomever
may pass by