Entry Level.

Never blink, for you might miss
A clarinet-note in the wind,
A pertinent rose that will kindle
The taste and the feel of your bliss.

Never shut your fears, my dear,
The time is never running near
The brim, it almost always is
Never enough.

Never dismiss
The folds of the curtain, the bend in the light of the moon;
It has meaning
In the tides they bring,

I care about trivial things.
For values close to love, they sing,
Of irony,
In tones of happy,
In octaves of three.

Here, see,
Heed, if you shall join
In choruses unending
With no practice;
A catastrophe.

Fitter. Happier.