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Description
I kiss the forehead of another dream,
cast away for different lives--
all my fields of green
seen through shutters
of different lenses, different eyes
that belong to me a half-step left
of the one I stand mirroring today.

These reveries--
revered to me;
refused of me,
refused by me.
Reflections of things
confused with me,
things yet to be seen.

When I die,
will I look back at trails I've cast,
branching worn, winding over grass,
a tree of life carved in the earth
by my unknowing feet?

Even better,
can I linger
over every second maybe,
reveal lives all hidden to me as I rise,
rise past the sum of every choice
and every right-hand turn
that led me to
whatever end awaits.

Is this what sailors meant
when they feared sailing past the edge?
Was it all a metaphor for the unseen?
Or is it just our nature
to wonder at what's hiding
behind masks of abandoned decision,
while remembering obsessions with crossroads
won't change the signs we followed.

Description
I kiss the forehead of another dream,
cast away for different lives--
all my fields of green
seen through shutters
of different lenses, different eyes
that belong to me a half-step left
of the one I stand mirroring today.

These reveries--
revered to me;
refused of me,
refused by me.
Reflections of things
confused with me,
things yet to be seen.

When I die,
will I look back at trails I've cast,
branching worn, winding over grass,
a tree of life carved in the earth
by my unknowing feet?

Even better,
can I linger
over every second maybe,
reveal lives all hidden to me as I rise,
rise past the sum of every choice
and every right-hand turn
that led me to
whatever end awaits.

Is this what sailors meant
when they feared sailing past the edge?
Was it all a metaphor for the unseen?
Or is it just our nature
to wonder at what's hiding
behind masks of abandoned decision,
while remembering obsessions with crossroads
won't change the signs we followed.