If I could
I'd grace whatever good fortune
with pieces of a smile
I borrowed at an early age
(never owing a return)
burning themselves
deeply into lines
on my face
which finally become
clear
in the calm water.
A map
unfolds to me,
staring back,
detailed
way before
I had the slightest inkling
that I
may one day
need to know
my route.
And as I
return
fragments
settle briefly
on the surface
around me
before sinking
into the immenseness
of eternity.
1 comment:
May the lines on my face someday become the tale of my life, lived full to the brim and overwhelming with joy.
May the tears trace their way along the lines of my face, for love that has been savored and treasured, to last forever when reality can not.
May I be able to know the truth that I so often seek through the paths of my footsteps, creating the map of lines on my face.
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