Sep 2014
Those with clumsy fingers, clumsy minds. They took a while. We all started the same but it all separated out soon enough, the good ones that squared up to you and made you smile
In summer the bonfires dotted the shore so that we knew we were not alone. There was a stable for fire, a chomping machine. They held the fire for us all to see, like it was their slave. The licks would jostle about for awhile, till they found their technique and mastered it. Made a fire that twisted and turned, until one day it could be knotted around itself, there was no telling where it began or where it stopped. This was a complex fire that grew only more intricate, and always upwards. Its secrets were only known by the few, but a warmth that was felt by the many.
Ahhh...an urge for days without progression, when it would reach a halt and be enough, but it never did stop.
Long stretches it felt the same, cause day by day it was deceptive, there was always a routine, always that feeling that it all had been said, nothing was really that new. But days like that only last so long. Sooner or later it all comes to the fore...when the wind changes and the last of those things swinging from the branches depart in as much the same way as they came.
But the good ones, we always knew the good ones. Yeah. It doesnβt roll like that anymore. That fire that twists and turns at eats you up will take you away to those places You will trip in a wild daze relish a full, bloated stomachs and wonβt want for nothing no more
In summer the bonfires dotted the shore so that we knew we were not alone. There was a stable for fire, a chomping machine. They held the fire for us all to see, like it was their slave. The licks would jostle about for awhile, till they found their technique and mastered it. Made a fire that twisted and turned, until one day it could be knotted around itself, there was no telling where it began or where it stopped. This was a complex fire that grew only more intricate, and always upwards. Its secrets were only known by the few, but a warmth that was felt by the many.
Ahhh...an urge for days without progression, when it would reach a halt and be enough, but it never did stop.
Long stretches it felt the same, cause day by day it was deceptive, there was always a routine, always that feeling that it all had been said, nothing was really that new. But days like that only last so long. Sooner or later it all comes to the fore...when the wind changes and the last of those things swinging from the branches depart in as much the same way as they came.
But the good ones, we always knew the good ones. Yeah. It doesnβt roll like that anymore. That fire that twists and turns at eats you up will take you away to those places You will trip in a wild daze relish a full, bloated stomachs and wonβt want for nothing no more
