Landscapes of the Mind – 15

Upon a lake, a summer eve,
Awash in fantasy and sleep,
I heard an unfamiliar voice:
A man, whose voice was soft and deep,
Who said, “We never got to meet.
For I passed on two weeks before your birth.”

The grandfather I never met,
Had come to me in this strange way:
“My child, you have much to do,
And things to learn along the way.
But I see you think things complete,
When you have seen so little of this earth…”

I turned to see his face, his eyes,
But no such vision did appear;
I longed so bad to recognize
In him, some part of me, some part of here —

Upon a lake, a summer night
And rainbows shining in the sky:
I drifted off to somewhere else
Beneath that deep and weightless sky,

For where I’ve been is only part,
Of what must one day fill this heart,
And even those we’ve never met,
Make up part of who we are,

The set

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