XXII  The Fool (conclusion)

Like a seed spiralling,
foolish & beautiful,
out of the ground through air
& turning in wonder towards the elusive sun,
out of the old journey a new one grows.

And I step off the edge of the new-found world,
& off the same cliff-edge
for the 52nd time –
the familiar demon snapping
at my legs, like a dog with the mailman,
& I turn to face my dawn.

Long have I known
that each dawn is the same one:
over the years I have run
into it like a child,
& watched the sun pull down the stars & spread
its sheet of blue over the fields.

It’s the spiralling that matters --
now the butterfly’s translucent wings
sparkle with reflected light –
the deep galaxy,
the whirlpool in the stream,
the tailspin of the maple seed –
I know I must
show the world to itself,
be the still point of a turning world,
let the light bounce off me,
touch the water at the centre of the wheel,
& beyond its grasp
I continue on.

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