Finis

My head feels
As light and airy
As a croissant.


It may be the blood pressure meds,
Maybe not.


If you reveal too much
Of yourself,
You bleed out 
All of the mystery of Life.


It is the progative 
Of the Poet
To be mistaken,
Or misunderstood.


Sometimes, endings
Are small beginnings.


There is always more
To say,
To write.