Curiosity

I am only a single speck, a refractionary glimmer,
that can only be seen in the right light.
I dance across the surface of hope, like the sun across the water.
I can not be caught like the fish, bottled for distribution,
though it would do man kind good to taste of this elixer.

For what do I owe this pleasure, on wings unseen,
to dance across the breezes navigationally set toward some unknown destiny,
though completely set ahead?

The clocks hands, made by man, do not foretell of the course,
but underneath and in between the surface of confident glass,
refracting your own happiness unto you.

Curiosity can not be cured, no one knows from hence it comes,
but the soul's wandering interest can not be found in one.

05-28-12