| To touch the stone again
Is my hope,
Yet keep both hands wrapped
Tight around the wheel
And see the way again
Yet feel both feet, though not heroic,
Set firmly as a statue
On the path
The way-of-the-world on-the-loose
Takes time to learn, takes time to teach.
Now I’ve grown wiser than my reach,
A man of heart alone.
Fear or courage,
Neither one much matters,
But only this nerve that drives us
Through the darkness and the marsh.
Not breath held back
Or blood stopped cold
But only hope's hooded falcon,
That with feathers flying everywhere
Takes a firm grasp of the world and itself with piercing talons.
Not the fury that swells the blood gone wild
Or the need in the cries of the child,
But only this relentless tearing,
As the soul-in-term declares either War or Love.
Suzanne, like a fledgling
I heed the hand that feeds me;
In the pleasures of knowing
Are markers that define our pride.
Our Passions are proud, and just, and shy, and they will
Waylay the best in us while we strive for balance—
For the world, make no error of the horror of it,
Will cut its own throat and without honor lie.
rcs.
3rd draft: 09/08/01
4th draft: 01/27/10
©1980 Ronald C. Southern
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I've revised this a couple of times even since placing it online here.It's gotten better each time by a little, but it still seems to fall short of my imaginary goal. Maybe I'll try again later. (of course, I will!)
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