Email Poem

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Poem

A call is to a thing we cannot know.
For some, a fear
For some, an opening
For everyone, a challenge
if the cost will not be counted.
To the inclined ear,
the very air will shimmer
with the approaching waves
and roll on silent drums...
the cue to take the moment
on its terms...
beheading unseen monsters
lurking in the shadow, or perchance
inhale the breath of angels,
for adventure never comes
unbidden--circumstance
is passenger to choice.

And so there is a time for breath.
This human reservoir in surfeit
for an interval
assembling power with purpose,
reward in limbo,
faith in faith 
as rainbows fade 
and emptiness commands.

Foreign lands...deserted isles
will call to millions then
as if forever were an open slot
assigned to rash behaviour,
exclusive to the few.
But there is opportunity
in every carpe diem,
from every breath, and every sigh,
every pair of eyes one sees; from it
new tomorrows,
yesterday with senses dulled
could not envision, even with the soul.

That dark, forboding night
brings warm and friendly spectres
when, with fear embraced
and mystery in quest,
an atom shows a whirling universe--
a waterdrop a seething sea.
Such voyages begin within the heart
and end in glorious tumult, 
winding down the curtain of a life
to thunderous applause.
~

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