THE ROAD

Life starts, leaping like a phoenix from ash.
Running towards the horizon
And childhood is over, one fine day
With one fine ray falling on your skin.
You run, everyone is, like the bomb went off in a market place.
No one said you would, or shot a warning gun.
The wind through your clothes and on your cheeks, you see.
As you have before if you would recall
That the race can be a flower springing from a bud,
A quiet time next to the T.V screen
And you're smiling at no one but yourself.
You pick the coins on the trail as you go,
It's how you get the next ride--
Though no memo says what it might be.
But up there, if you would dare to test the night sky,
A bright star whispers, "this is the way".