There is this burden that I carry
that is lighter than it seems
innate desire has me journeying
for its genesis, in dreams
One sombre eve I was visited
by wise acclaim’ed man
his shabby dress and bearded face
concealing weathered tan
He saw my look and came to me
to share what I did not know
and spoke of folly and gave of this
to imbibe in Dasein’s flow
“Is it metre to his stride, that sets a man apart from all the rest? Or should it me one’s cadence that we hold at heart as best?”
I countered with my thoughts on visage
oblivious to his intent
he shook his scruff from side to side
as if to dispel my words from causing extraneous lament
As we continued for an age I challenged thought
on garb and cloak in the fashioning of success
now stern and sombre the fellow spoke
“But what of the duress?
The sapling’s course is ever upward, your countenance will bear it little fruit. Why do you challenge verily its method at the root?
Is it not enough to grow and leave; In spite of, what has gone before? Enjoy its shade, respect thine beauty. Why is it you need more?”
In waking I recalled his form
and what he had to say
I chastised the cur of my response
but only heed of both today
For*
should every effort speak for me
are my errors what it takes
to grow but in the paring back
the space is filled too soon in haste
And*
looking ’round I glimpse
the faces they possess
reflections in a rapid stream
permitted foolishly to impress
Perhaps*
it’s in discover that our minds proceed
stay open rout no groove
be for others if only to feed yourself
watch them as they move
