It is often in the early morning,
before dawn has begun to spread,
when I will chase the rare enigma
through the rustle of spacious
There seemed a purpose when
the quest began,
an insistent need to capture
while still pure and wild.
But what then…? Clench it close
enough to absorb the rapid
beat of my heart, filling it to the point
where it burst?
Or release it in a spasm of exclamation,
hurl it out to catch the wind
and ride where it will?
Held tight it loses potential, hidden
and harmless in my grasp.
Free there is the risk of havoc, retribution,
enlightenment and beauty.
For the Sunday Whirl Wordle