When I look back, I see signs
To places I never visited
Along streets I never travelled.

There are memories in the hum
Of the wires beneath which
I passed, sparks in the humid air
That could have started fires
Instead of falling to earth.

But those twin threads of copper
Did not feel the keen mind
Of the younger me that
Followed them through the city
Whose fabric they held together:
I could not reconcile them to
Their more obvious brethren.

Maybe a later phase of me
Could have made sense of them,
My revived completism somehow
More relaxed (or more world weary
If you prefer).

But the destination
Is different now, and
So is my origin. Still the logic
Does not get through; still
I wish to have arrived
By another route.

The patterns of my kintsugi heart
Would have formed a
Different picture, and so
There was no other way
For me to get here.

09/15/2020

Posted on 10/06/2020
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince