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It Will Always Come Back
Like gusts of wind blowing in from the bay,
Like bulrushes in the creek as they kiss the sun,
Some beautiful things are fated to stay,
Built to endure what the hands of time will outrun.
For those blessed hours I encroach on god’s terrain,
Commune with the beauty of beauty.
Droplets of insight cradle me like summer rain,
Remind me of my sacred duty.
This I cherish as I tread the waters of ennui,
Out of the hallowed depths of Dylan or Fellini.
When that treasured inspiration does not call to me
There’s still gold in the teardrops mixing my martini.
Like an old friend calling my name on a crowded street
Or a late August wind caressing the trees
There’s no question of a place where again we two meet,
Resuming once more with the simplest of ease.
It will always come back. I know.
