A Walk

 My eyes already touch the sunny hill.

going far ahead of the road I have begun.

So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave.
.
.

but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...