The goal is to finally get there,
And, this I see is the shortcut,
Saving time in the long affair,
My mind swims, it’s so abrupt.
Like space travel through a black hole,
Jumping distance in light years,
I’ll arrive in time to save my soul,
And, get enlightenment without the fears.
The danger is but a will-o’-the-wisp,
A thoughtless bending of reality,
With swamp gas emerging so crisp,
I’ll let it offer a strange hospitality.
The shortcut has its own realm,
Nearby stands the ring of stone,
Uncertain, I wonder who is at the helm,
I pause in feeling I’m not alone.
Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.