Remember before this
when faith,
synonymous with bliss,
caught you on the down side,
gave you heart to fly?
The hero isn't the fable,
the circled hands at the kitchen table.
Change isn't just a constant
without it we are haunted
There's more space out here to breathe
the budding branches after fall
that big orange ball
alone, after all,
since there is no more than one.
And, coming over the hill,
I feel free to revel in the sun,
in purple, indigo, pink blazing horizon,
and I choose to smile.
"What's a few more miles?"
Because right now, I am the Soldier
feeling heart and bones get older
ordered by this Sergeant Brain.
But soon, I will be the Farmer,
trading weapon and armor
for soil and grain.