A Crow’s Flight

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Finding the Light like a Crow’s Flight

I live in the shadow of my own dream,

For days and days I climb over mounds of

Buried plans, mud-sliding under my feet,

A giant excavator is pouring,

Obstacles of truth, and my boot gets stuck,

Just like a child at play, I leave the boot,

Now wallowing in piles of ideas,

And so filthy, I cannot go to school,

A mess, marked by the mire of the shadows,

Going back to retrieve my sure-footing,

What would the classmates say, or the teachers?

‘Just go home son, and come back tomorrow’,

This is not a choice for me now, adult,

There is no tomorrow, only here and now,

Covered in half-baked mud and crud, I rise,

Can you question the state of the worker?

Fresh from the job, in constant toil, no rest,

Make no assumptions with all I have seen,

I climb to the top of the slope, grabbing

The roots of trees hanging where mud erodes,

Scrambling for the light of my goals and dreams,

My fingernails thick with dirt, I climb up,

And soon lay past the treacherous incline,

Panting, gasping, sweaty, covered in grime,

Sit up:  look for the success of such steps,

A full forest shields the light I look for,

Dense woods, cedar and pine scraping the sky,

I can hear the echo of my own hopes,

I walk through grass and brush,

The fierce scolding of a crow reaches me,

The sun sets far beyond tangled forests,

It is getting late – I will take no chance,

The dark forest may go on endlessly,

I wait for the moon to tell the future,

I have been right: tomorrow does not begin,

I sleep in the wilderness with dark dreams,

In the morning, the sun rises again: today,

Steam follows, orange, and magenta skies,

Even the shadows hide, on my day of thoughts,

I am free to search the forest for truth,

Even to look far for the other side,

Today I tread over mulch, branches and leaves,

Skip across creeks, and reach down to taste cold water,

Wash my face in the mountain run-off,

Try to make sense of it all, and build plans,

What will I do with the light and the night?

Who will be the guide: the sun, moon or stars?

When the path is a reflection, like in the moon,

Is our shadow more awake?

Or do we live in pure form, as we always follow the sun?

As the truth builds mountains: can we climb through?

Or climb over, respected for the work,

We make our decisions wise each day,

Dreams hold clear ties to the light,

and follow the crow’s flight

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