Steadily pulling,
you drag us to our graves.

What delight springs forth at birth:
a hope,
a dare,
a laugh in the face of newton.

But each skinned knee
is a reminder
of mortality.

With time
(which you also bend to your whim)
we learn to stay aright
and even use attraction to suit our wiles.

As I go
I will sing a song
of invincible grace.
And by that grace
I will thank you very kindly
for recycling these bones.

For the more you claim
the more love
will create.

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