Morning composition

Is it possible to precipitate
your own destiny? A sail
cannot be raised up when
there is no wind. The road
will wait for you but while
the sky is voiceless days
must be spent in the quiet
waiting of newspapers and
television shows. An eagle
too has a nest. The sun will
rise and set, the moon upon
her orbit show a changing
face. The tide will ebb and
flow before the boat may
leave the shore and a man
must live and work and
eat and breathe and talk
and sit before he finally
leaves his front door. What
love waits for you? That
of a tree meeting the dawn
in a silent forest. What
new hope? Just that of a
soft cloud that unfolds a
form of a solitary lion
leaping out from a grand
blue nothing. Hope, as
a stream in the desert to
the thirsty. And time
is the sad twitch of a
rusted heart that fears
the advent of its final
beat.