It winds like the path we take
Through the maze of the mind. Down both sides
Vanguards of birches like opposing arguments
Wage silent war. The trail is littered with their leaves
And curled pieces of bark like thoughts cast off
By a mind never ceasing to perfect itself.
Go deeper, and the vast sky dwindles
To a pale blue china bowl with a foliage rim.
And then the end:
The philosophical conclusion,
That clearing where the sun
Rains unimpeded, and you stand in a pillar of light …
The reason they ask,
If the way is dark, how can he always come back
With shining eyes?
Allen Ireland
Allen Ireland’s poetry has appeared in Westward Quarterly, The Lyric, The Rising Phoenix Review, The Road Not Taken, and The Orchards Poetry Journal. He has published three books of poetry: Loners and Mothers (2017), Dark and Light Verse (2021), and Landscapes Old and New (2025).