Sta.sh
Counterpoint Life
by *phoenix-kareneeWe follow different music, you and I.
I wonder,
Will you ever admit the opposing beat?
In quick, martial rhythm you stride,
always with determination,
And send me out before to scan the land
and bring back a report.
Then ...
You chant the fortifications,
I did not see;
defensive weaknesses,
in a war I do not fight.
You call the lay of the land,
a refrain I admire,
and leap traps
which did not hinder my feet.
I was just here,
but where are the warbling robins;
the roses, rabbits, rainbows
I saw?
We march to your tune, general,
this weary scout
always faltering.
But your music pounds on
without me.
You hear what I never could.
Trying to echo your pace
in substitute,
I only trip you.
Where I dance there is no perfection.
When I fall, the music pauses
That, too, becomes part of the beat,
flowing like breath
accepting the need of the moment.
Some days the tune flutters
like a leaf
before it releases the branch
to waft upon the breeze;
and on others,
cacophony thunders
like a river
rolling rubble down to the sea.
I don't expect you
to follow this orchestra.
I can scarcely trace it myself.
How I wish that you could know
there is another song;
That I do not miss steps
out of desire to hamper your path.
I can tread in your footprints,
if you will only let me follow,
and learn not to send me out
into a music not my own
without a guide.
But most of all,
I wish you would leave me
to treasure my melody;
discover
the mysteries of its moods;
perhaps even learn
grace.
