Now I know. I took for granted. That things would always go. The way I wanted. I was going to be a treetop. A sea a boat. A rock of ages. I don't always get it right. See it in a different kind of light. Pay my lip service. Keep it eloquent. Optimistic but. Never quite elegant. Still a weirdo. Still a weirdo. After all these years. I'd always thought. It was automatic. To grow into. A soul less static. But here I am upon the same spot. Attempting to lift off. Into space. I don't always get it right. But a thousand different ways. And I just might. Pay my lip service. Keep it eloquent. Optimistic but. Never quite elegant. Still a weirdo. Still a weirdo. After all these years