Conundrums Poem by Bill Galvin

All things come to those who wait;
Yet, he is lost, who does hesitate…
So, do we wait for an act of fate,
Or, do we act before it's too late?

The answer, or so it would appear,
Depends on our viewpoint, where,
One would ease our stone-cold fear;
The other could make a near one dear.

Missing out on love for not being bold;
Fishing for warmth and catching cold;
That wisdom gained from growing old;
Digging for diamond, and finding gold.

Did I hear her right, what she said to me?
Every move reflects the whole mystery;
Life is a long highway of ancient history,
With many side roads and sights to see.

If all things must pass, which they surely do,
Then, not only pain, but good things go, too;
And just what does it mean for me and you?
Hope alone does not make things come true.

Birds sing their songs from nearby trees;
Some fly away, some move close to me;
Some still seem to sing too cautiously;
A free-flying bird invites herself to tea.

If all things come to those who wait;
And yet, he is lost, who does hesitate…
Then, do we wait for an act of fate,
Or, take a chance before it's too late?

Time throws in its twists, and its turns;
Life muddles its answers with concerns.
A heart is measured by how deep it burns;
A soul by how much, and how well it learns.


Autumn 2016