Posted on April 28, 2013April 15, 2021 In the Wee Hour of Life My father-in-law, Lucidity, blinking and broken Declares his life a night, a forgotten dimension. So fast, where Did it go? He is still outside The forest of human Travel Following the script Of human hand That began in sand and Grit A hand that sent him to war To love To fatherhood To the hearts of those Who would wash his sluggish body Wrinkled, tissue depleted Immobilized by an angry destiny And landscapes of untold design And still he wonders why – The three letter Through the looking-glass question Whose answer awaits in the forest Where the path – trodden slight – Will call – he is moving there To that forest where flowering Dogwood bloom in wait For his steps light and inoffensive Like he A child in this fractal world Enfolding unto himself the same As we’ve always known Even as he is resorbed By nature – that path He will trod, swaddled in linen Looking ahead in painless Expectation 0.000000 0.000000 Share this:ShareFacebookWhatsAppEmailRedditLike Loading...