People take on the shape of the songs and stories that surround them, especially if they don’t have a song of their own. Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys

Like the slender-ankled daughters of ocean 
shaped by the banks that decide their path, 
we are shaped by our songs and our stories like potions. 
Each dent-cut puddle is an idiopath. 

Giving us guise like a whittlers tools. 
The stories and songs that we’re told and we’re sung, 
the dances we dance are how the soul’s school 
retunes the heart-lute real life has unstrung. 

So attend to the music, behear to the song. 
Long to ascend to the what you were made for. 
Raid the brigade of old lore to belong
to the Milky Way’s hymn of the rising lodestar. 

From Twenty Wild Decembers:Poems on Time, Available Now