In Search of Destiny
I can see the path turning,
though beyond is hidden
by a cliff of delicate fern,
with plume and grace
they reach in knowing
and peek with curling greenness
around the bend and nod,
ah, so that is the way.
And what does it matter
to this purpose which is now
just this dappling of sun
and the damp delicious earth?
Oh, but this fleeting butterfly life
begging delicate urgent go,
find the music to the dance
then dance for love dance,
this blossoming has numbers
and idle wings cannot fly.
Take these words and all this paper,
these printed exclamations of feeling,
this intelligent question,
this tale of light and laughter,
all these marvelous and exploding tears
and build a tree you see,
to jump from
and see around and over this tedious trail,
to glaze the surface of this day
with delicious and glorious gleaning.
Return to midnight and stars slow circling
and release your full blooming,
for sure each small movement
is a changing thing that alters,
if only the leaf you cling to,
and dawn will seep into the dark valley
with the reverent and worthy color of hope.