A Beacon of Grace
A vague longing
propels me like a carrot
on a horse’s stick
it is more haunting than taunting
Mystery beckoning
like a beacon of grace.
I fear it could be death’s
whisper I am following –
and if so, is it friend or foe?
Am I being led off the cliff like a lummox?
Or attracted to the hot air balloon of ascension?