yes, in those eyes

framed by the footprints of a hundred crows
flecked with shadows of some forgotten pain
bottomless wells of fading umber

the universe is there

the skin you pity and paint
that is dappled with the fingerprints of time 
where the sculptor’s ceaseless
chisel is making a network of paths up to 
lips that have ceded their plumpness to
the merciless sands of the hourglass

is no less lovely now

than it was at the beginning
I know what you see when you look upon the
wiry silver that has taken root like an invasive weed
staking claim in a furious land grab

these so called faults and flaws
these bearers of history 
are not defects, not signals of defeat
but reminders of the courage it takes to survive,  
of the sacrifices made to the gods 
to ensure those who follow 
that it is possible to pass through 
these lands unbowed

there has been no white flag flown
the mountain top is not yet safe from your ascent
though still tougher battles lie before you
so do cool streams to soothe your aching feet
and horizons bursting with the light of a thousand suns

don’t turn your eyes away from the road ahead
or let your focus meander to the rearview mirror
hold fast to your purpose
let the blood that pumps through your veins
beat out the rhythm of
all the unmet desires
of all the secret dreams of 
your achingly ever-beautiful heart