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Something More (Poem)

Why should I expect something more
than going to similar grasses,
that habitual repose on those
rocky hillsides and meadows, 

the morning commute, led by
the young and eager traffic,
anxious to return to constant grazing
and the feeling of eternal calm

that is only realized when
our collective memory possesses
but one single image—a painting
of pastoral tranquility, and oblivion? 

But we are not sheep
or bovine…or equine…
and we do not settle
for what we are given; 

there is more than repetitive desires
within our minds, and we can
choose to lift our heads upwards
to see neighboring lands,
strange creatures gliding in the sky, 

bestowing to each of us individually
a curiosity about what is more
or about some new paradigm
that leads not just along these trodden paths, 

taking us back and forth, from
barn to woods, woods to pasture,
back to barn, each day and evening—but
also, to transcend the limits set before us 

and discover once again the sanctitude of self.

Greg Bernhardt