How many times
have you tried to say
what cannot be said?
And how often
do your thoughts wander
like a boat with no anchor
across waters of broken moments,
resting on abandoned shores?
Maybe you are one of those
who keeps running in the race
that has no finish line.
Speaking, thinking and doing
occupies so much of this life.
The monarchs cast a great cloud over the earth
in their mass exodus southward.
What if there is something more for us?
Maybe the only thing really missed
is the one thing that never leaves.
Like a mass of migrating monarchs,
life becomes cloudy in this world.
There is another place, not far from here,
that irrigates the fertile valleys
of the heart.
Every butterfly prays to rest there someday.
