“Where to from here?”
asked the son.
Ever afixed fore.
Eager to move.
Prepared to evolve
beyond present palls.
Fueled by youth,
and drive, and
immune to temporalysis.
Years paced aflame.
Woke to the senses and
awash with consequence.
With steps precise,
in even-metered jazz
matching thoracic bass.
A heterogeneity of
one’s expected ‘stones,
and evermore errs.
A multude of life.
Trongs of intention
sewn among weeds.
Billowing potential
among decaying promise.
“Indeed,” replied
the father to hisself.
“Where to from here?”