Sitting here in these early morning hours watching downtown come to life, and hearing the faint strains of the X-Files theme being played in the background, and is seeming to emphasize these strange days and times that have caught up and found me. As I feel the triple shot of that silver bullet caffeine begin to kick in and know that the Devil’s in the details and not all has been revealed completely or made clear with those subtleties threatening to strangle me, making me wonder if things are real or not yet knowing both are separated by a thin line.
In some quarters, the songs are all over and will never be heard again as they fade to nothing, with some passing by and taking their places behind me now with some remaining and hang there, though the tunes have faded and the words are getting lost yet those songs can still be heard faintly. As I look out and wonder if Heaven will give me a word or send me a sign and will I hear it or find it? And trying not to look back and allowing some of the old songs be let go of and forgotten.
Having seen myself in the mirror and looked in my eyes seeing the reflection(s) that are there, with truth being the thing I have been searching for above all else as dishonesty disqualifies all things. Just like what those self-proclaimed saints quick to judge claim from their “gospels” scrawled on the walls, and that all can and will be replaced as they continue to try and have me and all others join in their crusade. As they continue to preach from those scrawled words and proclaiming them to be the word of their deity. As I sit here watching them pass by and knowing that nature abhors a vacuum especially one in the mind.
Sitting here and knowing soon I must move on and get the day done like I’m out on either Highway 61, or it's sister Highway 51. And having taken these moments at the day’s beginning and looking at things in a kind of a retrospect, of; people, places, and things, both present and past colliding at times with change being a mixed bag. And at times, memory can be selective and convenient like those simulated sunsets seen that are full of lies.
As I step out into the dark light of the sun to begin another day and passing those familiar looking faces and all of those worn-out places as I make my way. Heading to where I must be and feeling as though I am greeting the cast of an unknown play, with them gathering backstage as they greet each other in silence as the performance begins. And looking to the wings, I can see those jesters from that dark courtyard in the north yearn to amuse me.
Watching those shadows rise and fall knowing time is slowly slipping away, as I look and see those scars I carry that the sun’s dark light wouldn’t or couldn’t heal. And seeming to have been watching the wind blow and been looking for something sacred I seem to have lost, while finding myself looking to the night skies and trying to see the beginning of time. And hearing that false clock try to distract me and make me think my time is running out. Like when flowers die, and the lamp of laughter is extinguished too soon, and all slowly becomes a reflection. Being times shared and like a beginning is a very delicate thing and must be handled carefully. As a million tears have been shed and a million breaths have been given off as all is uncertain now.
Taking all in stride as I make my way and seeing all of the good and the bad, as well as seeming to re-discover things on the way and reuniting with those friends I thought I lost. Feeling old ties strengthening as some new alliances are made and forged here under the sun’s dark light. I also know that the troubles will pass one day and these strange times and days will too. Just as time will pass too and knowing as it does it will beat hell out of me just like the troubles have. Though it seems to have been raining stones lately, I can be thankful that the hard rain hasn’t fallen yet.
Copyright August / September 2007: Timberwolf International LTD.
In some quarters, the songs are all over and will never be heard again as they fade to nothing, with some passing by and taking their places behind me now with some remaining and hang there, though the tunes have faded and the words are getting lost yet those songs can still be heard faintly. As I look out and wonder if Heaven will give me a word or send me a sign and will I hear it or find it? And trying not to look back and allowing some of the old songs be let go of and forgotten.
Having seen myself in the mirror and looked in my eyes seeing the reflection(s) that are there, with truth being the thing I have been searching for above all else as dishonesty disqualifies all things. Just like what those self-proclaimed saints quick to judge claim from their “gospels” scrawled on the walls, and that all can and will be replaced as they continue to try and have me and all others join in their crusade. As they continue to preach from those scrawled words and proclaiming them to be the word of their deity. As I sit here watching them pass by and knowing that nature abhors a vacuum especially one in the mind.
Sitting here and knowing soon I must move on and get the day done like I’m out on either Highway 61, or it's sister Highway 51. And having taken these moments at the day’s beginning and looking at things in a kind of a retrospect, of; people, places, and things, both present and past colliding at times with change being a mixed bag. And at times, memory can be selective and convenient like those simulated sunsets seen that are full of lies.
As I step out into the dark light of the sun to begin another day and passing those familiar looking faces and all of those worn-out places as I make my way. Heading to where I must be and feeling as though I am greeting the cast of an unknown play, with them gathering backstage as they greet each other in silence as the performance begins. And looking to the wings, I can see those jesters from that dark courtyard in the north yearn to amuse me.
Watching those shadows rise and fall knowing time is slowly slipping away, as I look and see those scars I carry that the sun’s dark light wouldn’t or couldn’t heal. And seeming to have been watching the wind blow and been looking for something sacred I seem to have lost, while finding myself looking to the night skies and trying to see the beginning of time. And hearing that false clock try to distract me and make me think my time is running out. Like when flowers die, and the lamp of laughter is extinguished too soon, and all slowly becomes a reflection. Being times shared and like a beginning is a very delicate thing and must be handled carefully. As a million tears have been shed and a million breaths have been given off as all is uncertain now.
Taking all in stride as I make my way and seeing all of the good and the bad, as well as seeming to re-discover things on the way and reuniting with those friends I thought I lost. Feeling old ties strengthening as some new alliances are made and forged here under the sun’s dark light. I also know that the troubles will pass one day and these strange times and days will too. Just as time will pass too and knowing as it does it will beat hell out of me just like the troubles have. Though it seems to have been raining stones lately, I can be thankful that the hard rain hasn’t fallen yet.
Copyright August / September 2007: Timberwolf International LTD.
