The Arrived

Never show your discontent,

Smile although your heart is aching,

Never, ever, ever quit

BULL, spit the wise ones, molars a-grit,

venting verbiage in the marketplace,

cloaked in the ragged tapestry of

experience, mended by uncorked brilliance

stained with the blood of the offended,

felt by expressives daring to speak

to the battered cross they own,

and daughters, longing fathers,

digging deep and leaving room to

be released from lulls of dungeons,

struggles, rising to win inner Kingdoms

likely paved in ancient stone

and golden bricks engraved of this:

Balance shuns too little word,

shies away from fool's excess,

as Brievity is the essence of Wit.