He pauses on the hill although he knows too well
where he is going. How can that be ill?
A goal is good but this one now seems dull.
Before he notices, his horse has waded
into the stream. He feels so jaded
now: The star that awakened him has faded.
He wants to ride beyond the fight that pulls him back.
The least he can do is to let the reins go slack.
“Try to be a willow,” he says to himself, “not a brick.”
He and his horse reach the top of a high ridge.
As if the world makes sense from a ledge,
he recalls inside himself the rainbow bridge,
stretching from where he first knew the place –
with people he loved (and the one special face).
“The bridge is a way to balance what I keep and erase
what I must reject. I won’t let the dead take hold
of me.” At times, he has taught others to make bold
moves; now he too must break free of tired old
habits – self-hatred, isolation, lack of trust.
“You never do it alone. Scrape off the rust.
Is it so terrible to learn that you must
love? Be in the dance?” He will find
the object of his goal, and embrace what his mind
drove him to create – a vision so ill-defined
that it’s difficult at first to break free
of its tangled chains. But, stronger than his “me”
is the new one, born of relation, who can see
that every figure he has ever feared, from earliest age,
shall be transformed, reformed, on his inner stage,
and the crazy become the strong; the ignorant, the sage.
At his journey’s end, the King loathe to be a King
speaks from his throne, ever-changing, a floating thing,
“The only power is in offering love to others. Let’s sing.”
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