When the rain is over
I go to the woods...
And the creeks!
...Now they are swollen and driven with muds and
they sense ahead-and desire it-
A new life in a new land...
...they remind me of...
Two great -uncles who went west years ago
And got lost in Colorado...
...watching the tame creeks boil away,
My heart in sympathy pounds like a quick hoof.
I think with pride of my uncles who went west
Full of hope and vision;
I think they became healthy as animals, and rich
as their dreams
Before they turned some corner and became
Two graves under the leaves.
It is not clear to me in this poem if the two uncles died in Colorado pursuing their dreams, or perhaps some decades into their older years. I want to know if the richness of deep meaning and purpose accompanied them all their years, or if they gave into the softness of tamed compromise. Either way, the tame creek or the swollen river, they both flow into the ocean where all become one, and in that knowing, all becomes won.
What dreams to you have that you pursue? Do you tame your passion because the next moment you may find disappointment, fear, or death?