Travels in the Subjunctive

If I could just step back in time
I'd sojourn by a waterfall, and every morning
I'd drink of all the beauty and the mystery
that it affords.  I'd note with gratitude
the little watermill, and for its silent slave
the ponderous millstone grinding endlessly.

I'd sing the praises of what might have been.
The peace that finally decided to remain--
that donned the robes of nevermore,
a fitting tribute to a war whose only spoils
were obsolescence, sacrifice and pain.

The master poets might just move a bit
along the bench to make a little
space for me to take my place among them,
though this is merely flight of fantasy
the sun could never shine upon.

It could, however, flame the skies
with joys we do not even know.  More,
they will surely owe their genesis
to us, not air or space or star.
I see subjunctive journeying as its own eponymn...
another tool of consciousness to say:
"It is not time for rest. Seek on."
             ~