Transitions

Life is not a brick of permanent, impenetrable predictions
easily formed and forged into a foundation
that is happily obedient unto our every will.

And so, in moments of better sanity
we accept the wind as an invisible mantle,
which spreads as a metaphor over everything
so it can’t be totally tamed or controlled.

I still have my book,
the one that I write down my expectations,
it just feels so good to see the world in ink
where everything turns out according to my whims.
But there are earthquakes, storms
even the usual shakings for circumstances,
all stomping over my house of cards
though I was sure this deck
was so much more secure and stable
to endure any dangers.

Oh heaven is perhaps the haven
filled with the hope of unchanging bills,
until then we dance, make love and dream
always hoping for a date
as perfect as we can create in fantasies
who won’t turn out to be a nightmare
since we get enough of those in life
without even having to try.