Inside Insight

I pine not
For grass or trees.
This pane of glass
Looks fine to me.

Ever present
Is every present
Presented as the moments pass.

Where last is first
And first to class.
First to thirst
For half-full glass.

Fully free
To see worry
As irrational
Impossibility.

For the soul you hold
Can be sold for gold;
You otherwise can't lose control.

Might lose a limb.
Might lose a friend.
Might loss matter
When your matters end?