What Good

Good Am I

What pulses through me

Telling me how

To purpose my hands

And mind plucking my fingertips.

Where a pace bends

The pounding of my heart

Connected; one to another

Steps synapses firing

Onward

Into the space

Where it gets done

Work is finished

that serves

Good

Let those judges 

Sit tell-all

Well if

And maybe he should have

Done is done

Remorse cannot undo

Testament to my life

The lasting gasp in a universe vast

Already over and begun again

One thousand times