[POEM] Planning

With pen in hand, and mind's keen eye,
I map the paths to dream and sky.
A blueprint born in ink and thought,
Where seeds of hope are gently caught.

The calendar, a grid of days,
Where steps are placed in ordered ways.
Each hour held, a precious bead,
On time's long string, with purpose read.

Like compass, pointing true and north,
The plan unfolds, of greatest worth.
A lighthouse in the fog of doubt,
Guiding where fears would scream and shout.

But plans, like whispers on the breeze,
May dance and change with leafy trees.
For life's a river, wild and free,
And sometimes detours call to me.

So hold the plan, but hold it light,
Embrace the bend, the starry night.
For in the dance of chance and choice,
True beauty finds its whispered voice.

And when the journey's nearly done,
The plan, a friend, a race well-run.
A map that led, though paths unseen,
To where I longed, where I have been.

So let me plan, with heart and head,
Embrace the dance, the paths unsaid.
For in the weaving, grand or small,
I find my way, I answer all.