Not clouds -
That's what to be -
A point, an edge, a curving-up trajectory
A destination's slant and speed, an arrowhead,
Not mushy head of clump and dull
Drifting until 
Someone else's slipstream 
Carries you away.  No - an arc is the true thing 
Of thought, care, expectation,
One's worth is worth the push,
The surge and curve,
Not aimless unaimed slope
With a hope to find a purpose 
Lying around -
Being serene betokens carelessness,
Unseemly lack of thought 
And no analysis - no -
Hectic speed's the thing -
You must target your obsession, 
Draw-back the nock, hold the strained
Vibrating string, then
Let go ...
Hear the wind whistling
At your curves.
Don't be amoeba,
Drift and waste, 
An ineffectual whimsyman
Muffled and misplaced -
Be an arrow with a target
Draw your own red line
Align your centre's eye, be your
Meet your life head on 
Make it count and tally -
Don't be cloudy things
All soft and floaty, wasted time is
Insult to the gift and giver.
It will not bring you grace.
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