Wednesday, May 23, 2012


     While browsing in the pasture of my mind
     And grazing on the residues of dream,
     When dawn arrives, I find how thought’s inclined
     And follow its illusionary gleam.

     Out of the morning mists a way grows clear,
     A path to travel to an unknown end,
     Along which many specters may appear
     That beckon me toward somewhere they intend.

     Though still a mystery to wayward me,
     Who trips iambically foot after foot,
     Oblivious of my final destiny,
     The outcome I desire is more output
     Than destination, something I have made,
     Not found, a calling dutifully obeyed.