Friday, November 18, 2005

For Questing


There is basket (some might call it that)
resting discarded (don't think abandoned)
woven of branches pruned (never windfalls)
from every tree I passed (and climbed a few)
in search of life and all. (thought I was just having fun)

It is safe from thee (and hopefully me)
and molding fears and tears (and other things unspoken)
that mingling with others (no offence)
might oft endure and gift (difficult to decide)
to my questing soul. (more heart than mind)

My inner light and spirit warmth (same as you and all)
used to hide out there (lift the edge a bit)
in a misty wooded glade (thanks for that )
so far from being found ( "to be" profound)
that lost had no meaning. (except by other's claim)

Now I just wander purposefully (questing mind akimbo)
open hand and heart on sleeve (perhaps should be reversed)
and whistle and sing and prance (just because I can)
for what I am need not hide (certainly not from me)
nor care what folks might think. (but listen close to feelings)


At 6:01 PM, Blogger Steph said...

If you don't mind, Faucon, I'm going to place this in a silver frame and hang it in my studio (credited to you, of course).



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