We are balloons …
bumping around in a dark room
with the fan on high.
Dog-eared logic says, “Living blind”
must have purpose since
“Pin the tail on the donkey”
appears to be the game we came to play.
I could tell juicy stories
about forays in forbidden bushes,
feeling full of hope for finding
just the place to pin my tail.
If we could hang out in my living room
most certainly the stories of our
hunt for purpose would entertain.
There would be hooting, howling,
rolling on the floor with laughter at the
telling of our exploits in pursuit of happiness.
Still I am an optimist, and choose to think
that hidden in confusion, is the ‘straw to gold’
the ‘Grail and ‘Avalon’ …
all present in our common days;
truths we cannot see, because the mind
in hot pursuit of logic, is blind to angels.
