Whatever Happens, Move On, Pursue That End Poem by RIC BASTASA

when we begin we already know what distance is
we see it in the stars we hear it from the Siberian winds
we were telling the trees that our beginning was the smile of the snails
that the moss have always been faithful to the stones

at the middle we learned the games of the waves and the seagulls
there is always the happy chase between respect and dignity
like the moon how it sits on the black horizon how it lightens the silence

you want to know the intimacy of the wind and the cliff
how they have become almost the same in sonorous sounds
sometimes you sense the semblance of surrender
not wanting to go on and be the roots of the trees and the grass

i have touched the tips of your hair, though short, but that is enough
my wings have fully grown and the winds are waiting
i am destined for something else beyond the touch of your hands
i do not know how my story shall end, but the voices are assuring

whatever happens, tell me, for once, that you too shall find yourself
do not turn back, pursue the end without the trembling, the remorse of pain