You have done enough in your thousand journey to stop the struggle.Stay at peace and sleep.You are complete ,there is no need to repeat
I wrote till the fire went out and it was do or die. He sent me a tool to build my resistance to the madness of the moment but the fire slowly died. Its so strange that this vehicle this tool that was dull became sharp enough to draw blood, to hang onto, a blade.
So I hung on through misty nights and troubled waters.
Sometimes I stare at the scars in my palms where the blade dug into flesh but I had to not let go or fall into the crevices never to be return.
The scar tissues it never hurts or burns. This rope , this bramble , this blade. Amnesia made me let go so it is the long lost friend who tolerated me but knows all my inner secrets. I am ashamed to know you now so the words refuse me or in fact I refuse to utter. I'm still one foot in the gutter.
eight long years. Mamma gone now. Just the house remains. Alone now but the tool still shines brightly and beckons my touch. My crutch and faithful friend. Will it ever end ?
Ever know someone who took a gentle detour of the road to maybe pick wildflowers
or chase a pretty butterfly or some such and returned sometime later.
But never came back
Carried of by aliens maybe.
This is a recurring theme for me
To watch a mind in complete free-fall with no clue at all.
Never ceases to amaze. If I could generate wealth by shaking my head in from side to side
I would be having lunch in Dubai. and dinner In Paris on a lark.Pull over and park
just for a minute will you. I need to vent.
Pull back the gold tasseled flap on my tent.
Eat drink to your hearts content. Have a glimpse of a purpose driven
helium filled balloon . stunning in its lightness of self and circumstance.
The man walking his dog sans pants.
Shoulders touch . No body contact.
Lean in air kiss
Looking over your shoulder to see wassup.
Got a passion for high fashon
High concept gear.
Rubbing elbows with the overexposed
While turning up your nose at the great unwashed.
Oh My Gosh.
Wana be wana be
Wanna be wanna be touch the ground.
I forget to remember that I live in a world of slithering coils.Chilling.
We are walking the board calculating survival forever tribal.Pawns and bishops. Rooks and pawns.
Checks and counters.
Clouds our vision.
So by all counts the end justifies the meAns
I looked up one day while in the shower no reason but a glimmer of movement reflexes turned up to wash my face and the sleep for my eyes.
there suspended in mid-air it seemed a glistening light, a deadly convergence a sword's pinpoint tip moving to and fro in small circles just inches from my brow made of bronze and steel.
I lean to the right to try and catch sight oh the Strand that held it suspense but there was none not even a hair.
I am the sword of Damocles it whispered to me to me
Here am I
Here I will remain
Have a care.
"Easy son" the old man grumbled. "That might take a bit of patience. You got a full grown tiger by the tail.