Sonnet #339
Nothing will touch what is held in a clenched fist
The treasure sealed there will break before
The treasure can be shared unto another
Seal away your treasures in the tombs if you
must
The same as a fist, let time crush the beauty
That you can never see with hollow heads
Perhaps the insects that devour in your bed
Will appreciate the flavor of the treasures, bounty
But the end will be the same, only the dead,
Only the closed fist, punching away and breaking
My child, if I could put just one idea in your head
It would be this, an open hand hits harder, everything
Will break, but the treasure held openly
This is true strength: to be a dandelion throwing
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