Face a thing when it comes.  

That is the key 

That unlocks 

A certain kind

Of peace of mind.

But face it fully

Or it will haunt 

Your pocket

And beg to be 

Written down.

And then

You are its slave.

That man is free

Whose simplicity 

Manifests itself 

In the empty spaces

In his schedule

Which yawn themselves lazily

Open and wide 

Spanning the gap

Between few and deliberate

​Pillars of intent.