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Winding Roads


We cannot become what we need to be by remaining what we are. ~Max DePree

How do we become who we need to be without a map showing us the path or, at least, the coordinate of the final destination across Terra Incognita? Is it because a glimpse of the treacherous road would terrorize us into never leaving our locus of comfort? Even if that comfort is hell?

Had I seen my life path before starting the journey, I would have circumambulated the thorny trails seeking, instead, a road guarded by the dancing moonlit knight and his silver lance. I knew what I liked, I liked what I knew so I would have walked a course I chose for myself. In fact, that is how I started out, reaching for what I knew I liked on a path that was clear, a course laid down long ago by gods and people yet to be, past pens of sheep believing they were Nirvana bound not realizing their destiny was to be shorn and served sizzling with zesty spring greens and mint jelly.

I walked majestic into my future, straight backed, a blind man gazing, trudged along a river of sand shifting with every step until it dissolved into the sea and I was trapped in the sheep’s pen shorn of every gilded plan and the mountain obscured my view of tomorrow with yesterday a clear cut woodland destroyed in the great battle of Epping Forest while I picnicked in the same pen as the grass grazing sheep.

Inside a silver cloud
I followed a one person crowd
screaming loud
crawling as far as allowed
until my planned future I disavowed
before the sun shining bright
surfing light
waves into my foretold destiny I plowed
with head bowed.

I look back from tomorrow on my cinema show and see I’m wearing a floral tie, dressed as Romeo dancing with my Juliet on the star tipped waves of an ocean raging, tossing us into mystery in a 2nd floor flat
coated with the hair of a smiling white cat
the tail of a rat
sticking out of it’s coonskin hat
watching a rubber winged bat
wishing it was an expat.
I’m surfing on the river Platte
into the desert sleeping beneath a million star mat

listening to a musical box while brushing back her hair with kisses until I’m a merry old soul singing my life song.

06 Mar 2019
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