Does it pay to fly
by the seat of your pants?
Or is reckless abandon
the mark of a fool?

Does aimless wandering
lead to wisdom?
Or is it the sign
of a rube of the stars?

What is the mark of wisdom?
To be latched as a barnacle,
or free as a wind-borne seed?

What is the sign of mastery?
Competence and precision,
or wild abandon?

Is the very act of seeking marks--
outward signs of inward condition--
the sign of one chasing fate,
or the scarlet letter of one
chasing folly?

Good golly-lolly.
Poetry digs...
deep.
To places maybe
best left unplumbed.