Illuminandi- W drodze (On the Way)
A fertile anxiety, like earth’s creative shiver,
With each new day seeks a change upon me.
Walking the road carrying a pilgrim’s stick,
I break days bygone like jugs made of clay.
Refreshing springs I pass by on my way,
All being ablaze with thirst that’s eternal.
I know this one thing: I need to keep changing.
God has a plan for me. What plan? I don’t know.
I chase illusions, deceptive companions
That lure me calling at the sunny hour.
The day will end too soon. Minerva’s owl
Sets out on its flight only at twilight.