Thank you, Jack!

Perhaps W.B. was right that the mind, at best, is
A sleek surfer in a grotto of blue Hawaii's tunnel vision.
Really, like the dream behind some boy's poster child of endless summer.
Though, at worst, it is the severity of that water bicep about to
Inundate the sailors in the frail boat of that painting: The Wave.
No third Troy or fourth can outdo the human tragedy of love
Gone to war. Still that image of a tiny insect on the ocean
(That history makes and breaks like tidal longing)
Has its champions. But the clarity of what is coming
Eternally throws us by simple turns: The mind makes the past
Wholly crystal; while what blooms before our very eyes
Is hidden. Better then to simply learn to dance.
Learn to dance and practice, step by step,
Dancer hidden until the dance is done.
Hovering like the one who walks on water,
Or the chicken and the egg question;
Redeeming the need to know for being.
Sure sounds simple.
Everyone knows how
Simple it sounds.
Maybe the lesson we practiced
And practiced together is all we need.
No Dance. No Dancer.
Enjoy each step, and just be thankful for the lesson.