It
seems safer to inch along a proven way,
February 2014
refusing
to look up, refusing to hope.
I
can expect nods of approval
if
I stay inside comfortable lines.
Others
might favour me
with
a smile and ‘thank you’
if
I follow instructions.
It
seems expedient to gorge
and
keep busy
spinning
a silken cradle
to
hide my unkempt self.
Death
awaits, a soothing resolution
to
unanswered questions and puzzles never attempted.
But
some insist it is a door to Mystery –
not
restful sleep, but psychedelic dreams,
unanticipated
reconstruction.
When
I awake, must I begin again?
Biting
and pushing
to
release my wet, uncertain wings
to
unknown winds?
February 2014
