As I check out for Sabbath, I came across this playful poem by Richard Wilbur. Some days, it is nice to allow the horse to find the way home. It would our personal quixotic and random journey on that given day.
I found this poem n a book about reading and writing poetry called Rules for the Dance by Mary Oliver. The great poets have an eye for great poetry. Life is a dance that brings its own rules.
I read how Quixote in his random ride
Came to a crossing once, and lest he lose
The purity of chance, would not decide
Whither to fare, but wished his horse to choose.
For glory lay wherever he might turn.
His head was light with pride, his horse’s shoes
Were heavy, and he headed for the barn.
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ivonprefontaine
There was glory regardless of the path, and perhaps the greatest glory lies in ceding control to another.
Sometimes the hardest lesson to learn is giving up control. It requires and engenders incredible trust when we can live in that faith in any way.
thank you for sharing and thank you for all your positive vibrations that ripple my way
blessed be
michelle
You are welcome and thank you Michelle for a wonderful post.
AnElephant is sadly ignorant about much poetry from the USA and is unaware of Richard Wilbur.
But he utterly loves this poem.
Life, luck, destiny, all in 8 lines!