Is there hope?
The ravens chuckle as they leave us,
their feathers glinting of
coal and diamonds.
Ground-locked as we are, we cannot follow.
If not now, then in a dream
or some distant incarnation
we might find so elegant a path, the vague memory
of gravity unable to restrain us.
The wind will speak truth and set
our course, the night sky
There is always hope, so long
as we have dreaming.
May 14, 2008