Canyon Vista
whispers of all worlds
beyond voluptuous folds of greenglow tree wrapped 'round the bed
where Loyalsock lingers to tumble rainbow jewels.
Canyon Vista is no place for revelations. It's the edge of a dream
and dreams are more and less than this world
dangling in mortal eyes.
Life hangs on such vision, clinging to outcrops
hard above streams winding to and from the center
where eyes seek to steady and frame some world
yet these hearts always want more
and glide over the gorge meandering
into the evening sky
beyond fastnesses of forest and stone
off to the other side.

Here I seek to fill myself beyond all doubt and fear
with heart to trace this wandering way
through one more night, to find a dawn
and see what lies beyond.
Dreams don't die, and dreamers don't regret to live
though all their solid things must pass
into that waiting dark.
Life will hang through all the winding grinding rush below;
each one who falls but sinks into a dream where others grow.

Here is the mission
across the unknown emptiness
to reach the coastal plains and touch
what no one knows to name.
This gorge is not more, nor less than, the question.



© G. Cassel 2004