THE SPECTER OF ACTUALITY

Everything is caught
in the undertow.
I think music captures
this truth best.

I keep moving
until I match
the speed of life.
Then I let go.

The point is not
to pass or avoid
failing the test.
The test is merely

The true measure
of one's worth.
Taking it or leaving it
has always been our choice.

A voice will dissolve
into mist, haunting
harbors and homes.
Scratching at steamed
windows in the snow.

Emitted from the creaking
of anchored chains,
The whispers of the dead
fall upon emptiness.

I try to become familiar
with these empty spaces.
I try to remember these
lost voices once belonged
to different faces.

Individuals forgotten
in time. Yes, I can
imagine. No countries.
Only land. Listen to
the whispering wind.

It only tells of friends
lost or gained.
All these leaves
are carried downstream,
Headed toward the same sea.

That's the message carried
in the chuckling laughter
of a babbling brook.
It is the secret
in the book.