The Rememberings

I finally made the perfect plan,
One that accounts and withstands,

Every unexpected twist,
That I thought could yet exist.

This harrowed trip was made a breeze.
I’d slay them all with swift and ease.

I then set off on my voyage.
With my paper, with my foilage.

A breeze comes through, I lose my hat.
I feel the cackle of a cat.

The cat is laughing at my plans,
While sitting softly in remand.

He knows such plans will never hold,
Out in the breeze, out in the cold.

Never mind, I carry on,
With wisdom of the cat forgone,

The breeze is hard, the air is wet.
I shiver, and I soon forget.

My perfect plan, my perfect play.
I find I’m in the come what may.

Caught in static states unkind.
Taught in tangled mess of mind.

Sustained by story, sustained by tale.
Sometimes I’m free, sometimes I’m jailed.

So much is out of my hands.
My movement lacking in command.

But that’s not true, that can’t be.
Perhaps it’s something I can’t see.

I can’t see the part I spurned.
The place where I would never turn.

I turned and saw that smiling cat.
I follow him that was that.

Where he’d go, what would he be.
Those thoughts do not occur to me.

I spend the time without a plan.
And soon I see and understand.

Now I’d know, now I’d believe . . .
Just in time for me to leave.