There is no substitute for it, you know;
it doesn’t grow on trees, or wait,
like opportunity will, for you
to make a stab or take a chance.
Just what it is, is hard to say;
at least, descriptions formed by words
most often tend to miss the mark.
It doesn’t fit well in a box.
It isn’t what you think it is;
besides, it’s not so stuck in time
that mere conveniences apply
or easy labels stay affixed.
There is no substitute for it; and yet,
its absence most won’t even note.
Like air, that seems so commonplace
until it’s missing from your throat.
04 AUG 2020
