In the field of a thousand questions,
By the stream of a floating smile
Adrift on a leaf’s adventure,
Is a mind perplexed, awhirl.
On the sails of the windmill’s turning,
For the grinding of so much grain,
Chaff blown free from the crushing,
Is a mortal and pestle of pain.
Among clouds thrown hither and thither
By the arcing of wind on its cruise
Are the flights of freedom’s winged creatures
Buffeted but buoyant, if bruised.
In flotillas of dreaming, believing,
Casting all hope to the breeze,
Live the leaves, the chaff and angelic,
Significant in reforming release.