The Call

Dream Yet Complete
A Nursery Rhyme for Grown-Ups

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One: The Call
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Once upon a child’s mind, did flutter butterfly
Gift to share with one then all, who’ll open wings to try
Asked to ask and seek and knock, on wooded points of view
Goodness treats patient resolve, with echoes ringing true
Child’s play remembering, climb branches looking sees
Others just can’t find the time, and hunt on hands and knees

Contact lost within this space, where filtered light grows dim
Clarity falls up not down, when outside looking in
Some will search for ways to hold, fate’s hand a length away
Thinking armed with tooth to claw, at wisdom’s slow decay
Sow confusion to behold, no forest, only leaves
Spinning yarns of trusting souls, poor fools too blind to flee

Washing hands that knock then walk, on thinking no one home
Hesitation’s lost just like, those forking roads to roam
Some feel more imported needs, and cross off of their lists
Places childish notions lead, on trails that don’t exist
Foolish to have asked at all, one might have recognized
If answer did the questioning, wise mark demystified

Rhetoric a form of art, rhetorical but true
Some sad tidings beach themselves, on words cast out of blue
Curious this mystery, short lived in memory
Funny how the writing saves, the ends from tragedy
Means the shell can justify, hold ocean to the ear
Laughter from sand castle hall, to door someone draws near

Questions in our upraised hands, and answers we’ll surprise
Like the caterpillar who, does seem to death defy
It might take a miracle, belief may then belie
Fate it seems that common sense, is fated to deny
Battles rage within us all, where truth is compromised
There dreams, like tissue paper wings, are torn and tossed aside

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<<< Dedication | Two: The Choice >>>

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