Paths

I am looking for something sacred
because a hill, in front of us,
looks like engraved silver
in the low slanted sunlight.

Fence posts become columns of light
illuminating the steepness
of that climb, and
the height of the summit.

And I wonder if this
is where poetry leads.
If you start to see
everything as a symbol.

Your view, overlayed
on the scenery?
So that everything is a spark
for you to fan into meaning.

Or is poetry more powerful when,
it explores the personal journey to talk about us all?
Trying to be analytical while accepting of all experience.
The poem as cold, solo reportage.

I am happy with no answer,
because I think that there is room,
for both views and poems are
us, in our complexity.