This is a piece
     this is a piece of poetry.


it is not for you
            it is not for me.
it is just a piece of poetry.



                it was not written for the heartbroken and blue,
it was not written for the skies, for the thunder, or the lightning.
not for the split-second connection the earth and clouds share.

this will not cure a disease or convey unyielding love.
      it will not pulsate, coagulate, bring warmth to skin.
            it is not within.

this is just a piece of a whole,
          another pixel on the screen, a black or red or green.

it could be heavy or light, it could come day or

deny the words the mind will suggest.

this is not a revolution or a small uprising,
       no heroes' tale or lovers' denying.
it is not sweet or tart, not for the feint of heart,

it will not deny you.

or accept.

it is just a piece of poetry, a small part of a whole.

          and on the whole, as in part, the little piece ends


where it starts.