Like random squares of blank paper
Stolen from a desktop by a wicked breeze,
To fly, windowwise into the blasting discord
Of a traveled street, we each seek our significance
Like a stained glass chip in a mosaic window, convinced
We function to discern, perhaps illuminate a personal contribution
To eternity’s design that speaks of meaning, of intent
To the ways that time is bent to patterns of construction.
Some of us acquire a smudged footprint or a colored smear
That gives little hint of origins, but perhaps, Jackson Pollockly
Disseminates a surprising tricky indication of beautiful design
Where mind inserts qualities of metaphor that resound in reminiscence
To capture echoes of love or catastrophe or strange mysteries unresolved.
Chance can have an elegance and power of a lightning strike or merely
Entangles patterns beyond our ken to leave faint mutterings of distant thunder.
So each of us engages the raucous colored noise, the crush and swirl of reality
To, perhaps, capture a quality appraised unique, or, at end crushed and cleared away
To provide the space for other windblown attempts.
No comments:
Post a Comment