Crossed roads, slowly swaying
entrance beads from day to night.
Slip in between to become
for that instant of eternity
dancing gypsy calling to
Moon, to storytelling stars.
Embrace that mystery, train tracking
adventure. Breathe forgotten fields,
lush or shriveled, dependent on water
and feed. Let go of all but one brave
hand solidly grasped to the doorway.
Let go; let fingers fall reaching.
Make Peace The Issue