Oh to play with the notion of thought,
to understand the reasoning behind
purpose, attitude, maybe the inspiration,
we all do seek when lost in the shuffling
nature of the season.
Oh, when winter will remark upon
a simple morning frost, to make allowance
for concept, to create, maybe instinctive,
our bodies, our selves, intermingle
with the true meaning of life,
when swept inside the tenets of an arctic
breeze, chilling and responsible, ease.
Once, while a child, ‘I watched in solemnity,’
his body laid into the cold, dark earth,
forever to be walked upon, glanced nearby,
thought of in the chilly absence of life.
We all stepped tenderly away, him alone,
the music did continue to play,
but I, the child, I never really understood.
Walk with me, she said that early evening,
her smile frozen in the iciclic nature of time,
I wondered if when we ever did reach
a destiny, if then, perhaps would be a time,
we might center ourselves and then ask when.
But the winds were fierce, the bridge far too close,
the edge always asking for me, screaming really,
our separate paths become the night pattern.
Oh to hear the sounds, the visions do emanate,
for the will of our lives, the anguish we debate.