Beyond the edge of the world

Within the fusty attic of my mind
A spark from days un-lived,
Cascading toward a future undefined.
Beyond the velvet mountains soft as mist
They say there is no route nor chart nor way.




So they say but I insist that,
If wit and thought and purpose persevere,
The tempo of the drums of time can change,
at least a smidgin to allow
If not a perfect future
At least a precious now.








Beyond the mountains of the mist
Below the edge of the world,
Sail past the rocks of might have been,
Ignore the shoals of futures tense,
To find safe harbor .
In the everlasting now.

Watercolor on 11 by 14 inch Bristol vellum paper.