Crossing the Desideratum

 

Crossing the Desideratum

 

How is it that in the wilderness of the mind

There are so many certainties that mislead

Only to arrive at exactly the wrong place

And at the worst time - to rewind.

 

The crossings are a series of the figure eight

Swirling and changing along the way

And are otherwise, a long view of hope

It can seem like a bright or a bleak sight.

 

One cannot always trust what one thinks.

One cannot believe what one sees.

For eyes are easily beguiled by beauty

Or astounded by a mysterious golden sphinx.

 

Keeping balance on a moving track

While drinking the merriment of youth

Is left only for old men to relish

And offer up at death’s bedside tack.

 

As the winds of legacy invoke

Upon years spent flying sails of desire;

Walking on the bridges made of rope

Strung across the valley of gray smoke.

If only there was a place to gather

Before the rampage of rage and madness

Overwhelms like a ship of fools -

Said the voice: lifeboats won’t hold together.