I had wings, once.
They were lovely things,
Soft and white and pure.
They cast such pretty shadows,
Carrying me up and up and up.

I decided to catch a cloud,
Wisps between my fingers,
But nobody told me you couldn’t;
They just slip through, like innocence,
And I was left disheartened.

Wings failing,
I fell down into the dark,
Hating my wings,
So soft and white and pure,
Casting such pretty lies
As I fell down and down and down.

124 miles to go.  
This interstate is ethereal,  
Some dreamscape made reality.  
Other cars pass and fall behind,  
Navigating the lanes,  
Keeping between the lines.  
Each has its own story,  
Bursting with life and tears,  
Which always go hand in hand.  
I wonder if, like me, they  
Are on the road to something new.  
124 miles ahead of me,  
There is a place of rebirth.  
Behind me, so many roads;  
My experiences caught up in mile markers,  
583, marker, 356, marker,  
Now only 111 miles to go  
And getting closer all the time.

It’s a funny thing, time;
passing away on the wall,
not a care in the world,
just clockwise motion and

tiny

little

ticks

and all they do is tell you
that you've lost one second,
then another, and another,
until finally you look up
and there are years behind you
but the clock keeps spinning
round and round and round.

I know not what the light shall bring;  
New secrets come with dawn,  
And ne’er can I learn them all  
Before from life I’m gone.  

Yet out there off the beaten path  
Where weaker men fear tread,  
Discovered I the knowledge of  
The living and the dead.  

Such secrets as a God might know  
Lay now within my reach;  
And so then did I call to Death,  
A lesson mine to teach.  

Appearing then in front of me,  
The Reaper, dark and grim.  
I told him all that I had learned;  
He took my soul with him.  

And in this way, I found my death  
My end of time and space,  
And learned the secrets of the dawn  
Are best left in their place.

Autumn wind shakes the boughs,  
Leaves whispering just before dusk,  
Words of peace and serenity  
Easing the world into a slumber  
Quiet, tranquil, and deep.  
The rustling, the sonata;  
Mother Nature’s baton  
Slowly, gracefully, meaningfully,  
Conducting a twilight all my own.  
    
Fading sun in my eyes,  
I’m just another mind in need of rescue.  
Heart and brain cast about  
Like common trinkets,  
Emotions crafted into the strings  
Of an ethereal instrument,  
Playing note after lamenting note  
As if such artistry would fade  
To darkness with silence,  
Or fall like leaves  
In this willowy autumn wind.

An arduous trek over the miles,  
Through the wreckage and rubble  
To face the storms, the dust,  
And the man-made darkness.  
Still, I travel my own path,  
Walk the lonesome road;  
My memories, burdens to bear---  
Whispers of the Old World,  
Clawing through a wasteland  
Of thoughts and dreams all my own.  

Mistakes were made  
And lessons learned.

Air slips between my fingers  
Like sand through the hourglass,  
Flowing over my outstretched palms  
As the road leads on into darkness---  

Turns, bends, and forks,  
Split-second decisions,  
All my tiny victories and mistakes  
Ticking by like little mile markers  
Leading out of the world I've known  
And into the uncharted night---  

A limitless void of possibilities  
Just outside the reach of headlights,  
Always one step away,  
Shying away from the brightness  
And slipping between my fingers---