Let's get intimate.

A poem. There is a delicacy to kindness.   When deeds asunder, Tears forget their wisdom, And agony fixates upon itself, Left wading in the West.   Reflection on pondering, Transgressing the coolness Of the Source that Pumps lungs, Fuels tanks, Chokes and smokes, Withers and cloaks.   Whether wished for Is not up to reasoning.   Dreadful or otherwise Nevertheless, we pirouette around our hidden Sun. If only we might notice The boldness of a fierce Mother, Upon whom her chicks