Upon the gray mist
of an October dawn,
walking through the Commons
on squirrel beaten paths,
he decided to emaciate the trivial
and live more sagaciously.
The trees, which lined the trail,
hovering above him,
became seers of destiny,
stoic, silent and pondering.
The tepid beams of light,
which vaguely illuminated
their colorful manes,
varied highlighted pigments
into a secret code,
knowledge hidden form ordinary view.
He examined their foliage
as pages in a book,
studied their branches,
where the birds,
students of the seasons,
held orientation.
He kneeled at their trunks,
absorbed their mysticism
then stared into the lifeless pond
as the profile of Socrates rippled.
Insight floated in the air,
he scrutinized heaven and Earth,
for the future rode upon a breeze.
He walked home in a deep alone,
a pursuer of wisdom,
a believer of enlightenment.
