Living the Dream

This is the truth of it.  We return to our nests
like a necessary nest-builder, making way
to give birth to that new generation
of those who will sit on high cliffs
and tell all who choose to hear
how very angry we are at this arrival.
This is the truth of me: I can no more abandon
this likely nest, than I could continue to fly
when the weather bends me too roost
and rest.  It is not my choice.  It is Destiny.
It is a guiding hand that leads me to this place
that will cup my dearest desires and promises
I make while meditating and giving birth
to new ways to conquer what needs conquering:
Myself.  It is the whisper of His voice
in the wind over my aerie, that tells
what part of flight is left up to me.
As I am drawn to find the place closest
to Him, so does he find a closest place to me.
He guides me where to build
and I build where He is most likely to notice.

Tags: Poems //