For every branch
A thousand leaves
For every fork
A thousand more
Just keep the faith
And carry on
I’ll find the way
Back to your heart
Call it a canyon
Or call it a rut
A pretty enough rut, you say
Perhaps… but still a rut
So I scamper out
Leaving a trail
Of dusty memory
Seeking the open vista above
The expanse of the big sky
A land of possibility
Then wonder why why why?
Can’t we find a way
To share our world today
But the years of consciousness
I could count
In just an afternoon
And my own years
Rattled off in seconds
In the vast pre-history
Of consciousness
This beauty unremarked
But do my remarks
Or those of others
Make the beauty so?
And the creatures
Which skittered there
Having barely left the sea
I think of a wave
And the littlest living things
Awash in the foaming ocean
Not so unlike
The littlest living things
Swishing over my feet in the surf
Many days
When I had nowhere to go
And all day to get there
Now I seem to be
Everywhere at once
But nowhere at all
All the time
Pix to Words 