An outline

It’s a smoggy morning in Edmonton.
The guy on the Honda Silver Wing,
waiting for the light to change—
an outline.
There’s a yellow-grey sky and the wind is already up.
It’s a Monday set on edge,
a ruined dog straining at a leash.
Back now from a road trip of one month and 10, 000 km.,
and the search for meaning starts again.
And yet, how beautiful to breath.
How delightful, good-religion.
How peculiar, politics.
How critical, poetry.
How imperative, a friend,
to keep away that old grinding hollowness,
that fear of irrelevancy,
that lying-self.
To keep alive the urgency for peace,
the longing to love and become.
To let be, that stone too big for pulling.