life

when does life happen?
when we are active
when we are passive
when we are pensive?

there are days when
there is so much light
that I feel blind;
can't see what happens
but I can hear
the flapping of wings
the shadows they cast
on the ground
on which I think
I firmly stand;
the hours pass
violently pushing
against each other
and when the storm
has passed
I wonder why
I have nor grabbed
the wing of chance
whatever chance
had come my way
to fly free
away from all fear
and its demons

and there are days
when gentle light
pushes you out
from undercover
when you feel strong
enough to blow the wind
that takes you where
you want to go;
when you take steps
without sparing
the effort to cut out a path
if it was not
already made;
and you don't care
if there is no path
to fit your foot;
you have to go
with forehead up
wherever future calls
with its strong voice
from far aback
the workshop
of your dreams
that it recalls