It will happen in time

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.