Who cast a spell over my world?
Who opened the doors,
stirred the crowd of possibilities,
put gold dust in my dreams
causing my life to turn?
O Fate, O Love, O Spirit, O God:
is it true
that all good things must end?
Or have you set me on a path of meaning
Not luck
Of clarity
Not magic
And this grace
that brought me to the mountaintop
is also assigned to carry me through dark forests of
loss,
the ones that await us all,
that disturb our peaceful sleep.
The same grace that guides the seasons:
cracking the ice,
pushing up saplings,
scattering the earth with their first dramatic leaves.