Destiny unseen, being streams

and the winged wanderer on bliss and despair embraces the glittery night,
watches on wooded fields of settlers,
the jumbled lots of urban gypsies,
bonfires of celebrants pressing the edge of the Earth.
Drawn to their glow yet leery of mortal fears,
he dances through shifting shadows of the sky
and tests the weight of their world.
He cries in sudden struggle,
the pleas of a thousand hearts unlocked in his emptiness,
tears raining down on the dancers,
summoning their skyward glances.


All they feel and see
is the moth and its nervous fluttering
knocking dewdrops
off the eaves of their houses.





© G.Cassel 2004