Time’s Paper Boat
by Odin Roark

So often…
like the origami boat of youth,
many find themselves floating about,
seeking streams and rivers leading
to an ocean of completeness,
trusting that more bobbing and weaving
around the currents of resistance,
waves from life’s unexpected currents
will somehow abate.

Some…
staring forth from the windows
of time’s conciliatory nod,
their aging’s quiet moments resonating.
reverberating youthful memories,
(a proud parent’s encouragement to fantasize,
“climb aboard your paper vessel, darlin’…”)
where navigation down the gutter of imagination,
maneuvering around the islands
of discarded soda cans,
unfinished burgers,
an occasional rock or two,
finally coming to rest
atop a drift of grass and leaves ,
still intact,
seems so... wonderful.

Such moments
can still at times,
seem so joyous,
these spawning dreams
of adult adventure assured will come.

Such proud parents, they were.

Yet…

Adulthood never was such a “darlin’” sail,
or successful docking,
or with adoring embraces from all on shore.

How illusive he learned life’s shorelines were,
are,
and continue to be.

Like a landmass on the horizon,
seeming one minute to appear,
then disappearing the next.

So life went,
goes,
endures…

He continues to reside
among so many lost voyagers adrift,
staring out their own portholes,
longing for that which most likely
is still but the tenacity of a paper boat,
cascading toward…

Nevertheless…

Like him,
so many still smile,
especially when their ship seems to be coming in.