Tread Softly
Tread softly my friend
for what seems as solid
as the oaks familiar trunk
or the well packed dirt on this path
or predictability
I have found at times
to have a surprising feel
like a sudden shift of wind
just as our sails are set
And many a wizened hand
slick with the rain of long seasons
has met his end, unexpected
beneath those light capped waves
And when the sun, long for passing
turns on them a pale rose
there is no remembering of remains
save for the tales of grandmothers
told by a dying fire
Do not wield lightly that rudder, good soul
for every turn, every blink
is scribed on Odin’s walls
and there is no missed step
that the fist of thunder cannot find
or lightening, in a breath, strike blind
A thief may make away his gold
and even a forked tongue can cleave, unseen
the fabric of the soul
but like a lions yawn, the maw of eons
trifles not for man
These spinning orbs roll ceaselessly
down from their thrones of fire, and back
keeping the beat of the drum
that is everything
and nothing at all
So the hours are few, my friend
if, with the heartbeats you have left
you wish to etch a similar arc
across the sky
For these flame haired Gods
did not sleep their way to Apollo’s hall
and it is only by the weight of your own wings
that you rise, or fall
So arch, and press into each stroke
as it were your last
arise in a silent storm of feathers
to claim your now
Tread softly, for this day is deeper
than the sunlight shall reveal
and the moon is always hungry
as she ever was
Tread softly
