Re Grit

I am a bird.

Hand me a stone.

Savoring in the gullet.

Grinding up whatever else
comes in, or serving as 
another milling device.

Esoteric may be the 
explanation while in 
Reality, we have simple
little lifes, pulled from the
tree of ignorance to feed
the ones who read too
many books to get away
from the feelings that
had no place to nest.

If continuity happens,
there will be recurrence.

As the end of the story,
the narrator gets brash.

Takes out the main character,
claims it was time.