Hail the latter-day Columbus, mastering the angles
for the voyage. And as quick as the pencil turns,
darting through solution after wave,
as peerless thought glides in and wills
a course, destiny and destination
are somewhat intertwined. We admit,
at least in the mind, that daydreams
belong to those inclined to dream
more so than those whose years
have greater certainty, guaranteed
without life’s need for uncharted hope.
Look how before life’s film embroiders
dust from silent motes, a passenger
beside you speaks darkly of glittering days,
devout tomorrows already knowing
ending and plot, her laugh shutters into the wind.