The wind whispers,
carrying love in secret,
waking on the edge of the horizon.
Star by star, I put it in perspective,
tear by tear, I deconstruct the past.
Shivering and straining toward
the future, juggling fatalism with
ambition, in the palm of my hand
a grain of sand that represents
this earth and its materialism.
Letting go, I feel lost and
searching for a truth that will
solidify my purpose.
How aware I am that the
emptiness of poverty and
poverty of spirit take the
ascetic reigns of the galloping
immaterial, words once said
have returned, have built a
palace of memories to which
I owe acknowledgement.
This journey is my life flashing
before my eyes, the cries of
birds flying overhead, springtime
elation inspires meditation, on
having something, on having
less, on having nothing, the
energies meet, then go their
separate ways, having a tussle,
leaving a haze.
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