Like boats loosed by storm from harbor moorings and anchorage,
we have lost our sure directions from underpinnings
shorn, torn from wharf and woof by screaming tears
to the twine that would bind us to meaning and promise,
kites cut free in alien breezes
sailing toward latitudes unknown,
But the sun still raises its question of the day:
what will you be?
where will you go?
what do you know