Overcoming Fool’s Gold
by Odin Roark

What was I to do?

Attaching at birth,
the message revealed slowly,
as I labored faster.

Passing years implored
“Why do you not listen to
thoughts ruminating
passions begging,
words shouting?”

Perhaps…

Shattered wings simply cease to fly
unable to lift mired judgment
severed trust,
buried senses,
one’s heavily laden heart.

Until…

Somehow the scales
of right and wrong,
fantasy and reality,
hunger and starvation,
tilt their measure
into informing symmetry.

Unpredictably…

There comes a time
when there’s no longer mere weight of spent resources,
or yesterday’s colored brushstrokes seeking perfect hue
sorrow’s adagios pursuing passion’s scherzo,
vacuous words drowning lonely pages.

On such a day…

Patience will never again be lost,
dreams left abandoned,
sunrises avoided,
silence deemed lonely.

The enigmatic lightness of touch will have arrived,
tilting the scales ever so gently,
allowing eyes drenched in tearful attachments
to purge the prison of self-pity,
making room for a new mystery of balance,
the luminance of love will have arrived.