So then, guru, please answer this:

What is a soul,

If not a chance to just fly free?

 

Oh dear graceful butterfly, please come and land on me.

 

You have rode on the wind, far above terrible things below.

You have made beauty from chaos, inside a smile so quiet.

 

As still as the pond on D’Agostini Drive with its familiar blue herons,

My soon-to-be-friend, you are

On a journey, kind sir,

And you have found twelve million birdlike companions.

 

Life, treacherous Life, became sweet joy for you.

 

Inside your subtle smile, only to be free,

Where we could hide and live forever—

As kindred souls should be.

 

February 20, 2012

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