Boston To Austin

It’s all good, it will be The printer will print Will that settle the soul? For now anyway? It’s not about the TV Or the lack of furniture Or worry about money Or who likes you or not It’s about perspective How to understand what happens In the wide open space That is life, the future It’s what we can control the wisdom of age And how that feels condescending But it’s not; it’s experience It’s speaking through time So annoying to the young “You don’t get it” echoes Through generations and family lines It’s the blankness in spaces Between one life And the successive beings who push and pull Until they split off, a separate orbit