Poem for Day 277 – 20151005
Left to wonder which way the wind blows
when your charms are hidden underneath.
Surface speaks to the possibilities
unknown to the curious scryer.
So many questions come to the mind
of the one with thoughts of lurid kind.
The answers matter little in the end
unless you are similar kind.
What does the garden hold behind
gates latched with the holy ways?
Look to the paths that run straight ahead
or twist to match the diverse tastes.
The former speak of norms grasped,
parent's teachings followed at heart.
The latter is more adventurous,
seeking the breadth of life to bring.
Holy motives assigned to God's hand child,
has dogma set you in its ways?
Doubt is assigned to benefit,
to give leeway to how you sway.
Holding firm against the whims of life,
feet firmly set in rules of word.
The alternative is a life fancy free
embracing the winds of change.
Does the snow fall white on the ground
behind the curtains of your mind?
These windows opaque to me,
wondering how the snowmen are made.
Tall and straight in conformity's style,
no deviation made with blanched snow.
The surrogate would have them shaped
in shades of color favoring gray.
Answers to these questions I'll never know
unless you share your most inner thoughts.
Mysteries intrigue me of the beauty here,
fascination held by a soul yet revealed.
Blow the winds, shake the chimes,
reveal the garden's heartfelt creed.
With this grace I'll walk your way,
or tip my hat and walk away.
© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.