the winter swan . . .

the winter swan . . .the winter swan upon the lake
bathed languidly in the solstice light
it’s soul dancing across his memories
yearning for his final flight


his beauty yet held in weariness
seasons past and those to come
yet with duty he preened his countenance
and gave to life his sum


he overflowed with emptiness
for a swan was all they saw
yet he was so, so much more
but to be a swan was his law


was he bound by his own making
was this forever his fate
could he somehow transcend himself
could he ever pass through the gate


was not he also a keeper
of this sacred unknown trust
that beauty comes through suffering
and love transmutes from lust


(c) December 2009 : William S. Peters, Sr.