Defining Pathways Poem by Bill Galvin

The clouds part above my head,
And a silver seed reflects the sun that I cannot see,
Making a beeline somewhere from someplace;
It doesn’t matter where;
It’s just fine that I don’t have to be there.
Flying close to the speed of sound,
They’re going fast
On routes over land, sea, and time.
But I’m going slow enough for me and that’s just fine.
It’s not just that I see it all clearly today…
Tho I do see everything as a poem in my mind’s eye.

They’ve all gone home now, and I turn inward again.

I used to see it all through a microscope.
I used to design copper pathways for electrons,
Measured in microns and micro-inches,
That travelled in milliseconds near the speed of light.
Now I enjoy the full beam of the sun’s might;
Outdoors instead of in; stress-free, more solace within.
I used to work in a microcosmic world,
Now macro has more meaning.
Straight paths were to afford the least resistance;
Now I wander where heart and spirit take me by chance.
I used computers to zoom in at 1000 times scale;
Now I use them to write, store and send poems and mail.
Now the big picture is what matters the most.

West winds make the treetops sway,
Doing their best to blow these clouds away;
They’re trying to blow them out to sea,
And I’m looking in a mirror to see the best of me.
I bought a new Stetson hat…
Now I’m trying it on for size;
And I’m looking in that mirror again,
Working to stay worthy and wise;
Seeing who it may be I’m trying not to be,
Before my Master’s call puts an end to it all.
Everyone’s had a fall;
We just hope the last one is the last one.

So I’m just biding my time,
Just don’t know how much time I’ve got.
I’m so surrounded by flowers and angels…
She means as much to me as she ever did.
Sunbeams may have lost some of their luster,
Tho I get to go wherever, whenever I want…
Freedom is an elusive concept…
How many really want it anyway?
New pathways form from new journeys,
As the hair on my head is turning gray.
I straddle a newfound fence confidently;
Knowing I still have relevant things to say.

Seeing who it may be I’m trying not to be,
Before my Master’s call puts an end to it all.
Everyone’s had a fall;
We just hope the last one is the last one.

The morning glory vines slowly climb the trellises
I built of wood, nails, and cotton twine.
You can almost hear their joy,
As they feel their future ahead of them, in time;
They grow curving, looping, turning, as they hold firm;
Confident, as they, mysterious to us, sense their next grasp;
And that makes them feel good, too;
Perhaps to know their last grasp is not their last,
As they reach for the heavenly blue;
Quietly, healthfully, contentedly.

These are the pathways I design now;
And it makes me feel good, too.

I’m going slow enough for me and that’s just fine.

Seeing who it may be I’m trying not to be,
Before my Master’s call puts an end to it all.
Everyone’s had a fall;
We just hope the last one is the last one.


7-7-2015