Crossroad

Why has this screaming power
crushed the music of my dream?
That beautiful, sad dream
filled with forlorn and lonely life.

In this realisation I arrive at a crossroad, hot, dusty,
dragging my torn body to a stop.
The salt of sweat envelops my lips, tongue
and the dry, raspy constriction of my throat.

The journey to this place, difficult but grand,
stretches behind me like a familiar trodden carpet.
But here, at this place, Now, there is little familiar.
Now there is only a beckoning whisper of the past
and the cool, fresh breeze of beauty.

A step in any direction brings answers
yet still deeper questions,
glimpses of a legacy unraveling to a singular truth,
awesome in its simplicity and complete indifference.

The road I feel to choose is to live
through the beauty capable of this human form.
With the sad dream crushed there is place for love
in this weary traveled heart.

This embodied reflection at the crossroad
goes now to teach without knowing,
to love the full living, to live its small part
in the balance of the equation of the singular truth.

 

 

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