Standing here as I drain a cup once again near those rivers of blindness, and I am heading out on foot down that old forgotten dirt farm road and casting my fate to fortune’s whim. And not able to shake that feeling that I am once again heading out on old Highway 61 after it called. But, I know that I’m not on it as I follow the passage of the sun towards that far horizon, and I might look as if I am bent over in defeat but, I am just marking both distance and time with each step, and find myself wondering why the lamp of laughter died, and did you feel the pain that was felt, or reach to touch the night? Yet, I will never know why or what was truly felt.

As I pass through those fields flanking the road I know that are full of sorrows and blessings, stopping as I watch the winds of change make the fields look like the sea as the greenery ripples. And knowing that I have lost a lot of faith in people and things lately and still I have and hold faith in those things I have, with thoughts coming unbidden of those things that happened along with what was said and unsaid. Making me at times stop and attempt to count the cost and wonder if I have truly lost paradise forever? So it goes as Vonnegut said with all changing in the blink of an eye the way Dylan said it would.

Asking those I pass not to stand up or rise as I’m only passing through following this road, and asking them if they will tell those I know that I am doing all-right and simply trying to make my way home, which I know waits for me somewhere along old tired dirt road I happen to be on and wonder where it is. And time like war comes and goes and like me, the soldier will survive and remain eternal, just like hope that always shines on and goes on forever even when all has passed on. So I’ll just drift down this road into the next sunrise following every bend and serpentine curve, knowing that all roads being like life with both have a beginning and an end.

Asking myself if I am just fooling myself or am I really trying to get home? And wondering as I pass an old forgotten cemetery if I will lie in one like it, in the Earth and under it? With the rest of those forgotten there who patiently wait out the passage of time, and then again it’s better to know the truth than to live a lie as I head into the turning of twilight, and it seems as though I am standing on the dark-side of the road hearing songs that usually go unsung, as I look to that night sky to try and see the beginning of time.

Not being weary yet as I make my way through the night and still marking time a step at a time. And having been called a joker and a fool and not knowing how much more I have got left in me nor do I care while I pass those tumbled down farms and shacks in the light of the Peddler’s Moon and feeling empty. As the days all drift by making me feel as though I am finally going home and not another way-station; for far have I traveled with miles to go and I feel as if I will finally sleep only when I’m dead.

Everything is made to be broken and can be replaced, so they all say, and if that is true about all being replaceable, why does the heart hold memories and the mind burn with them? And it’s been a long road and I have faith in my heart to believe in that I will finally find my way home, as both time and distance seems to be finally breaking down as I continue to make my way step by step. Knowing that if I lose or betray my dreams, disillusionment will affect the mind with life being unkind, as I continue on following this road and seeing the signs on it knowing it leads me home.

Copyright March 2008- 4: Timberwolf International LTD.