Avalanche

I wandered nowhere special in my past,
just drifted, looking, lonelyish, half-arsed.
Nor in my present is there brilliant light--
I drift, doze, dream, enjoy the day and night.
What then will help me through a magic door?
Sensing the future’s avalanche downroar.

Robin Helweg-Larsen

 
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Robin Helweg-Larsen would be pleased to hear them.