Maps and compasses

Such a willingness to leap,
the mercurial objective chasing
light and shadows through the ugly city
-both hands teaching the mind
to surrender: follow the compass,
not the map-.
Both hands holding on to the hope
of sacred encounters.
Those were the omens,
your photographs
were the first words of happiness
but not even
the oracular seeresses realized
that a time of wonder was so near.