Oh you are coming, coming, coming,
How will hungry Time put by the hours till then? —
But why does it anger my heart to long so
For one man out of the world of men?

Oh I would live in myself only
And build my life lightly and still as a dream —
Are not my thoughts clearer than your thoughts
And colored like stones in a running stream?

Now the slow moon brightens in heaven,
The stars are ready, the night is here —
Oh why must I lose myself to love you,
My dear?

In keeping with tradition he did the opposite of what he always wanted to do.

Quietly he went along the road with no name, no ego and much remorse.

Deftly he examined the highs and lows in the corners of his middle aged mind.

Examining his heart with the heavy hand of God he paced and thought.


Reeling in the ghosts of another time and place- he knows so well.

Reeling out anxieties and fears that the coming tomorrows will surely bring.

Reeling in those closest to him for support and distracting interludes of wine.

Reeling out sediment from deeply sunken and scarred wrecks left unattended for years.


In keeping with tradition he forged further onward like cowboy Neil at the wheel.

Quietly he went on alone, armed only with the memories of love he had- but lost.

Deftly he examined the tides and the levels of the seas in which he sailed upon.

Examining his heart with the heavy burden of those he failed while chasing his hidden *** of gold.


Reeling in the ghost actions of a moment or scene long gone- but not so far away.

Reeling out the sighs of praying angels who root for the goodness he deserves.

Reeling in the energy he needs from others who do not wish to share there hearts.

Reeling out the heavy weight of uncertain tomorrows lingering in limbo in our minds.