Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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Morning birds call me to new heights
across the fence, field and border of
the forest, above the trees and labyrinth
of the city, beyond limits with Eve
who partook to progress, to  be cast out
of the nest, banished to lone regions
of the mind, mortally tied to this rock
hurled into space, held spinning
in merciful gravity of the sun, to confront
daily crossroads, each paradox of orthodoxy
crisis and solution, another level, exiled
far from home, yet Father always looks down
in compassion and understanding, as I
soar and fall to excavate in darkness of night
making my way, breaking, turning over
loosening to discover, finally, to reach the light.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. 4/7/2012