The end of one plane,
Receding into dreams,
Bringing the new.
Are you ready to lead?
Bicycle spokes, black books,
Feather pillows, keyboard strokes,
Writing notes to faraway folks,
What do you wish to know?
The drive inside,
Who is driving?
The snow outside,
Who is snowing?
The coming and going,
Of the muse.
Who is controlling?
Who is holding?
Just a brake please,
From the gas.
Just a breath please,
Between the last.
Just a moment please,
To trust the process,
To feel the track
Slow, not fast.
To see the footprints,
In the back,
And, ahead, emptiness,
From the pack.
To create universally,
From the stillness of mist,
To relate to starlight,
From the lava flow.
And bring the glow,
To warm the earth,
That is the tip,
Of what she asks.
(written dec 11)
