The atheist’s prophecy
Did you ever hear the music
On the corner of East Street
Where the flowered lanterns
Are lighting a way that may go
Wherever you take it.
The music, twisted into harmony
Tells there is no right way
And no wrong way in this night
There is no fate here
Twist your harmony,
Sing your tune,
March with the rhythm of guitar strings
Pressing feet into the earth, purposefully
Thinking: this was our path, and let them think
That at the beginning we had any idea
Of where we were going.
Only we know that the travel,
A meandering river in time,
Meant to disguise the purpose of life
That we had not yet unraveled.
Only we know that the road
Never left from or towards home
Because the home was wherever we walked
And the destination reached before we started
Because the possibility was there before the growth
To actuality: and in that moment,
We lingered, searching for the wrong things
Which were never found. But in their place
We found a world of beauty not known before
And learnt to speak the language universally spoken
The language of love and of grief
And we learnt to speak our minds, no matter
The consequences. We learned to see
Another way of being free.
We learned to hear
The music on the corner of East Street
And we listened.