Mip

Mip had a worry.
First it was thought.
But tore out in a hurry
Before it could be caught.

She had a want to be known,
No part of her shut,
No secrets to own,
This sounded best but –

If I’m known am I lost?
Could the gift be the cost?

If I’ve naught else to give,
How do I live?

Mip had a thought
That turned to relief,
Burning blue hot
As newfound belief –

We’re full of endless unknowns,
Galaxies grow in the body,
Moon mind, star heart, sun bones,
All fit easily, oddly.

Mip could show all of herself
And there’d always be more.
She had an unending wealth
Of herself at her core.