The Warmth Of The Will

the days passed
they all rushed
as though someone is
dying and we all want
to save him

we do not notice the
markings on the walls
the strips of paper on
the pavements
we all rushed
because life is waiting

when we reached there
the gloom is growing
and we begin to ask
why and where and when

the moment came when
breathing stops
like an edge of a ruler
where measure is cut

we paused and that was the
time when we all begin to
stop thinking
about the where the when and the
why

what was important has become
insignificant
like air or sunlight or dew
or grass for the goats
or river for the horse
o twig for the dragonfly

the reason has gone like mist
upon the hill
it has surrendered to the
warmth of the will.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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