an incantation to your muse... draft of a poem I wrote back in October... thought it felt right for today. I hope it holds some meaning for you. Finding one of my poems for you was helpful to me too. I've been a little underwhelming as well. It needs some work, but just now coming to appreciate it... hope you find your wings. Changing Patterns I’ve been walking this road a long time, there were other times on other roads, but this time on this road this dusty rock-strewn familiar path with all puddles emblazoned in memory each dip like a line on the palm of my hand, each ditch along the side, filled or unfilled, is like a long-lost cousin, waving hello, this time on this road is much too long and I don’t even stop to see my reflection in the puddles anymore, not from fear but from boredom – from a sense of disenchantment or is that distaste? Try as I might I search for a sign on this path to show a new direction, a hidden road behind an overgrown bush, a secret gate, forgotten, leading out of some ditch, out of sight from overgrown ivy or a mad tree growing wild and flailing about, but I have no such luck, so I continue to prod along, eyes downcast a tear dropping to the dust every fourth and tenth step, or so, when I finally am dried up and my walk is now the gait of the elderly downtrodden, I hear a bird call, and I raise my heavy head and see it lift its wings and take off toward a cloud and before I realize what has happened I notice that I have the wings of an angel, or perhaps of an eagle, and my body lifts up, face to the sun and off I go into the horizon, and I am the horizon and I am the distance, and I am the sun, breaking through the clouds, these wings are freedom, and always were although I’ve only today learned to use them.
