by T.C Leonard

Created on: October 07, 2009   Last Updated: October 08, 2009

"Variables"

At forty-six, it all seems fixed;

This trail that I blaze

Should be straight and narrow,

Not a vast and twisting maze

My job, divorce...what other force

Serve as signs of things to come?

Like a bracketed equation

With a set, unchanging sum

But, no, not I, a million dice

Come tumbling every day,

And perchance some combination

Will come soon to change my way...

What flux or anxious gremlin,

What happiness or sorrow,

What pot of gold or monkey wrench

Will call on me tomorrow?

The path is lined with detour signs,

And it crosses raging streams,

As the waters of uncertainty

Rise up to flood my dreams

But dream I shall, both here and now,

Through good times and through sorrow,

While trudging through a heavy mist

To the unknowns of tomorrow

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