Janus-faced Life, I think I know you
until you turn your head. You sing
your own harsh harmony, and which
is the tune and which counterpoint?
Look both ways, god of beginnings
and of ends. Look for me
on the road as I plod toward somewhere
else. It is beyond those hills
where even you cannot see.
Stephen Brooke ©2016
Now this is one of those poems that started purely from a phrase that popped into my head---the first three words here---and the rest followed pretty quickly.