Where the next step will lead...

“Who can say?”

Who can tell us our names?
Who can say where our next step will take us?
Who knows who we are?

Who can say?

Can the moon?
Can the stars?

Perhaps,
But they choose not to speak
Save in silent whispers
On clear, cold nights
In early spring,
Whisper to the shadows they cast
In their pale, refreshing light
Of a man not quite yet a man
On the steps of his home
And his life as it changes
Slowly
Beneath his feet.

And as he turns his face
To the cold night’s breeze,
The light is caught and held
By the clear eyes
Of the man not quite a man
And it is a sweet whisper indeed.

“Who can say?”
He whispers back and looks
To the ground
In the light,
To the next step
He must take,
And the man
Not yet a man
Alone
And not alone
Beneath the moon
And the stars
In the cool
Looks
And breathes
And knows
And steps…

“Who can say?”