That gypsy lady

So that gypsy lady broke up her camp

and braved the mountain of love’s attributes

and she overcame all obstacles

on her way to that far away peak.

She planted herself for a moment or two

in the soil of emotion and knowledge

to feel the wind of celebration

blow happily through her hair.

Of course she knew as everyone does

that peaks are and will always be

opposed to life’s dictates

that decree an abode on flat level ground.

But for that one moment or two

how glorious it was to be free

and speak the words of love’s honesty

even if unto the deaf.

Step by step she retraced her steps

with more baggage than ever before

until at the midway stage she stopped

to dispense with the feel and knowing.

But the wind had followed her every move

waiting to pick up her discards

and push them along behind her

to make light weight of her memory.

And how like the wind to pick up speed

and deposit it all at her feet

to trip her up, again, again,

on her journey to flat level ground.

She’s not there yet; she loiters in caves

in attempts to escape the wind

that whirls and swirls her discards

at her one and only exit point.

Unless before time she escapes

that gypsy lady will be as dust

and blow with the wind and her discards

into the land of “The End” …

but time, yes, time; what is time

that never forever has stilled the wind?