I envy in high resolution those men
walking ahead of me in their broad swagger
nursing headaches of insight. They bear
within themselves the woven wealth of nations,
the braids and the seams of their tireless fingers.
Lights rest on their foreheads when they go wherever
their goodness leads. I share their courage
and borrow their strength. The sun rises
across the world, meeting every need, warming
every wish, illuminating the hope we all
carry within us, that the day will fill our
minds with its twiggy splendor. The buddhas
of the highways and the airports explain
how we should live, as if good enough isn’t.
The men and women of wandering
forbearance, mostly gone from the mass of us,
still see through our eyes, understanding
our sadness and the long drive to work.
Whatever makes us calls us all to our own
good sense. We encourage the part of us
that falls for our greatest desire.