'on the fly'

Epistle to a friend

'on the fly'


“Catch you on the fly.”
I wish I could.
We both lead busy lives.
Yours, full of action.
Mine, stuck on words.
We fill our existence with what we value most:
sunshine and mist;
the laughter of children
or the wisdom of elders;
birth ... and death.
What we call LIFE‘s the struggle in between,
of overcoming none other than our Self.

On the fly,
you soar with wings of gossamer or glide on ice.
I fall or stumble.
Not all live lives of graceful beauty.
Yet by the grace of God we breathe.

I would seek true harmony between us,
the Beauty that‘s restored by love ...
not the lust of carnal flesh.
The star-like essence of the soul shows no regrets;
but, asks the price of unconditioned hearts.
We answer:
freedom to love and live our lives.

Catch me on the fly? I barely crawl.
I am the worm-grown-old.
What nourished me when young
now aches the bones.

I wasn’t wise enough to spin the silk of youth,
to cocoon myself while I still could.
I never changed into a butterfly.
I merely became an older, almost ancient, worm.

On the fly,
you soar with jewèled wings.
You taste the nectar of your Lady’s garden,
hold in your gaze the fruit of pollination.
Like a mirror of your childhood,
with new blue eyes he gazes back.

You flutter by.
The swirled ether warms my skin.
Your laughter restores the smiles within my eyes.
And I remember what you said this morning,
that you would catch me on the fly.


© Kare Enga 2005


21 mars 2005
Catalogue number: [162.1]

Written for a friend, just after I spoke to him on the first day of Spring. The first day of the New Year, 162.