The roaming

I was lost in contemplation

organizing the day in my head;

weighing in tasks that can wait

and tasks that needed pushing ahead.

Just then, a subtle caress broke my thought

- free-will dances, rebellion sings -

a seductive flutter, colorful riot,

a feeble brush of delicate wings.

My heart unchained and broke free,

like a beast that has been uncaged;

riding on imagination it leapt in glee

after the butterfly that it chased.

It rode along asphalt highways

leaving behind city in its trail:

across the rivers, over the bridges,

beyond tar roads, and steel rail.

It played in brooks, collected pebbles,

swam with fishes, jumped with toads.

And when tired, it sat by the river

lulled by the soothing rhythm of its flow.

It rode across valleys bathed in green,

and trotted around meadows in bloom:

It rolled on its back when darkness fell

winked at stars and whistled at the moon.

It moved around - in awe - in a start

one sight to another, one place to next

until it found in a moment’s heart,

its true pursuit and real context.

Firmly rooted to the ground as it is now

it seldom wanders and does not roam.

Purposefully it ventures out sometimes

always finding its way back home.