I am a time traveler, I move quietly from today to tomorrow,
I am an ill traveler; I dance with pain and sing with sorrow.
“Who goes there” they call to me, deep in the night,
Not easing my pain, but just causing more fright.
I swing on a star sent by the pill, and swim in goblets of wine
I pray for release, I cling to a dream, one that’s sweet and divine.
I hear the music that all others miss; I taste the river of love
I feel the pounding, down deep in the earth, sent by something above.
As a traveler I go just a day at a time, so much to my dismay,
But if days were words and I was young, I’d still have little to say.
I wait for the spring its effortless growth feeling so warm and green
I lie in a field watching a dream, knowing it’s already been seen.
I drift over clouds, billowed and white, lined with silver they say,
But I fall through the cracks holding my pack onward to a new day.