A Dialogue

There’s too much of yourself in your poems,

says the great master,

too much obsession,

look away from your body , look away and forget

the flesh that tethers you to the earth.

A falcon can only fly higher

when he forgets his own weight.

but, my master,

says the young man who comes to seek wisdom

in poetry,

I have only my eyes to see, my hands to touch

and almost too anxious a heart to feel,

without the feeling of the wind

it is not, for a falcon, flying.

The master nods and smiles,

The wind shall remember the flying.

 

Happily, the young man walks down the mountain

where the road bifurcates into the wilderness.

 

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