RHYME Poem: A Journey in Harmony, by Beck Mutka

With all that we are, there’s no point in pretending
that despite different starts
complementary hearts
we haven’t got the same ending.
No, you know, as I do
that we’d best get to mending
the dreams, our schemes
the reams still unbound
pages of stories of where we were found
they’ll tell tall tales of the glories, we own it
‘til the moment that both of us live underground.

Come on up then, raise your chin, let’s begin
there’s a whole world of battles around us to win
we deal inspiration
feel for each new sensation
correlation, causation
cessationless study.
So little in this life is simple or easy,
but friend, please believe me
there’s fantastical thinking worthwhile to tend, as you’ll see.

Abruptly

the call and the journey become something more
unlocked window and door
mountain and moor
fountain, I’m counting to get back off the floor
We may not be wise, but we’re trying
in the night of the soul
still undying
all that we can control
is the step after steppe, though a prairie becomes me
all flower and fire
beauty and dire straits plated without the tediousness
of the mire, with its obedience less
to an author, but rather, the story itself.

Still, there are legends worth living
efforts worth giving
though I know we’ll find ways to fall short.
It’s the fight that will make us
not like combat, that’s tasteless
but the spark and the hope and the care
in each lungful of air, making fair all that ice would distort.
No freezing rain, no selfish gain
no cycling of fear and pain
can split boulders unseen
between shoulders and spleen
We’ve got guts if the cuts of learned helplessness
can’t turn us into only what’s been.
It’s our tale if we take on the telling, the toil
I’ll be helper and foil
and someday
light-years away
we’ll stay shining with worms in the soil.