Ours is not the only world
Whose dawning sun bursts upon us
By filtering a thousand gleaming rays
Through a forest of leaves
Again and again, heart by heart.
And ours is not the only world
Spawning poets of a thousand words
That whisper all the gentle colors of the clouds
heart by heart, again and again.
Nor are these the only yearnings
Touching distant mountain peaks.
But looking out upon this open sky
This feast of possibility
It now occurs to me --
There is oh such a difference
Between reading the words
And being there.
~~Fiddler 06/18/2002
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