World Is Cold Poem by Stan Petrovich

You are groping for the wind,
Child, and I regret you'll never
Catch it.
I hate regrets,
Which are the stuttering of thoughts,
Or a loud fltus in church.

Primarily misunderstood,
You are neither neither here nor there:
You are between notion
And upheaval. You may never learn
The consequences
Of your inaction
When it comes to charity
(Real charity)
And unfeigned forgie.
sceneness-
Alone in the wilderness
Of an unthinking universe
You might expand
To your own size,
Burst upon the scene, and even the strong might
Regret your negative prescience,
Failure to grasp.