The Crossing

  

Crossing from the hills
to the vast empty plain
where emptiness reigns
and misunderstanding is common

To cross from the vitality of spring
to the waiting in fall
and finally 
to the loneliness of winter

To the empty stares
the faces seeming unsure
guilty,
yet innocent

Yet to cross to the place of wisdom
of experience
away from mistakes
priceless

The spring has passed here
the battle of life continues
the dream not dead
all that remains is to smile.
 

© 1997 blackwing@sk.sympatico.ca