Woke up this morning with a blue moon in my eyes and felt as if I had been taken down, deep down, with nothing being the same since the blues descended and walked right on through and shook all up beyond belief. Now I am finding myself standing at a crossroads after having made up my mind and knowing most things are now gone, and there are times when I shouldn’t be around or near and turn a blind eye to what is seen and deaf to what is heard. Though I may have been lost at times and somehow I made my way through lost dreams and shreds of those abandoned plans, as I read the signs I saw as I passed by while I make my way down Highway 61 again only, this time, it’s not directing me.

Acutely aware of the pain words cause when used as weapons and well placed as they are fired and their echoes, and knowing well too, the sharp pleasure that can cut deep and learned over time in the taking of those disappointment(s). Having decided and set out on my own out on old Highway 61 two days ago and not really knowing where I’m going to, but as I feel that warm tar beneath my feet I’ll end up where I need to be as I strive to live each hour in my own heat, and out here in the fields there is no need to fight, cry, or any reason to raise my eyes as time passes with each step I take, and all the while I am thanking disillusionment, silence, and the consequences of the lies and deceit which were my reward of nothingness.

Thinking back to that one Sunday morning when I arrived at the station and the cards I saw lying there, (three playing cards), that might have been handmade that lay there at the base of the steps in front of the station, showing; the Joker, Ace of Hearts, and the Ace of Spades and never wondered if they were placed there for me to find. Somehow remembering that moment with clarity as if there had been a twitch of a shutter moving like a snapshot from the eye, and as I wipe my brow and wonder after the fact if those cards had been dropped or placed there to be found by me? Something I will never know as I continue on under the sun’s dark light that’s heating the air under these blue skies.

And recalling that I was told once that the greatest things we are given is the truth in life and the gift of free will, and never knew I’d feel such pain or that I would find myself unable to explain or choosing to head down Highway 61. Burning in the heat and hoping no one starts their railings, accusations, and labeling they feel I should hear and wear, and as I ask those I pass not to get up as I am only passing through like a wandering ghost on my way down the line, and wondering if I should fear that these are the final hours and maybe the final blow may fall like a hammer?

Little bit weaker than I used to be as I head on through the heat knowing I am probably best forgotten, and now being able to feel new wounds being added to those scars that I carry the sun’s dark light wouldn’t or couldn’t heal. So I will just make my way down the line and drink when I’m dry and eat when I’m hungry and try to live on the square. And now feeling the weight of the canteen and my pack and the reassuring weight of the Colt on my hip as the land changes. Just like life and people change, and time may pass and punish as it does but there are some things it just won’t erase. But, I know I need to walk tall and be cool, collected, yet savage for strange times have landed with the blues.

Still I believe in the ancient promises and the false belief I will b e one day free from the blue moon I carry in my eyes, as I stand upon a ridge looking into the valley I have just crossed looking like the caldera and now look to the horizon. Wondering as I watch the sun slowly setting like molten molasses as I stretch out my hand as if to grasp all I had missed, and clench it in a fist as I feel myself shaking from all contained within me knowing why I have headed down the line. Looking for that part of me that seems to be missing and a mystery and can’t let Highway 61 direct me or take control,....This time. And attempting to feel a harmony as I stop for the night and stare into the fire’s light as it burns as if in a tunnel.

Wounded deep in battle and to a Cheshire smile I once stood on file for like the soldier I was once, and time time has come and gone and I took my chances and tried for a few goals that seemed like shooting the moon, and knowing that all is not silent in the halls of the dead which is where I think I might be headed to and all seems final. And wondering as I continue to stare into the firelight if I should have just joined the pitching queue for the gallows with the others? As the hangman will be coming down from the gallows to offer one final dance or should I be directed to the guillotine? And laying back and looking to that canopy of Heaven above and watching the constellations turn and wheel across the sky, which was once our blanket out there on the western edge of the trail in the hill country knowing it might be gone.

In my mind’s eye, I see a lone tombstone standing there in that old cemetery with my name on it, and wondering if the Pyrrhic victories have been too much and should I lay my body down and give all up? As I blink and wipe a tear away, I see other times when she came and danced under those starry skies and swayed. And now all I can do is move on when the darkness turns to light and head to where I am directing myself to be, with memories being boxed up in the smoky fires of the mind and each being a tiny universe and poems frozen in them. And death is an easy thing and he’s always fair to all things when he comes and things happen easily, while I stand here with love bleeding from my hands.

Copyright March 2009 – 8: Timberwolf International LTD.