Change
Wrapped tight as
The thick trunk of
One ancient oak,
The fortitude of courage
Holds my feet firm
Into the soft dew
As i march on,
Standing on the edge of the continent,
This place of learning that bellowed out of
The voices of men reflected into the unearthly stare Of the wildflowers
As they penetrate the mountain in springtime
With a presence heard to angels.
And now
I can head back to where I came from,
No longer fearing the howl of the winds of change
As they carve wrinkles into my countenance,
Their hurricane force no longer an omen of death ssas walked through them
embracing that stoic force of transformation
Hand in hand to the finish line.
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