Epilogue Poem by RIC BASTASA

and so
the clouds come
and they are so many
like a grape-ful
of imagination
in bunches and bunches
of spheres
of understanding
you miss the point
they are not the
metaphors of
doubts
but of embracing for once
what we do not
understand
because we have no
power to do so
we use our eyes now
wide open
into the wonder
the amazement
no strain just
plain watching of a
folding phenomenon
like we
are all kids
newly transferred
to a grassy place
beside a lake
the first time
we see
a jumping fish