Finding myself standing out here once again as I have done in the past, standing here during that last hour before the dark light of the true dawn under a cold bringer moon, with nothing but silence that seems to surround me and holds sway as I look up towards the moon. Looking at it with these green eyes that at times can be colder than it and be able to stare forever. As I shift my gaze to those dark mountains now silhouetted by the dawn’s false light, here in this turning of the twilight.

Wondering too as the silence is broken by the call of one of the last night trains heading in, and if you were to see me would you recognize me if I passed by and would you know or call my name? And would those silver sparks strike like flint on steel once again igniting passion or my heartbeat? Like it happened so often in the past when we both headed down that high road towards a united goal? But, those days seem to be done like those plans we once made that seem to crumble to dust at my feet, and still I seem to have hours like these and carry some of the thoughts and dreams still, even though according to most my conscience is empty and full of void.

And now with each day, I just seem to be hoping to do all right and the best that I can, and hoping that I might break even and just seem to want at times to forget today, tomorrow, or just hoping to have it better than today as I make my way step by step in this Vale of Tears. And feeling too, at times like I have been climbing rung by rung up a Jacob’s ladder, and knowing too that I won’t be able to get what I’ve been looking and searching for until the day I die. And even though I know that fact, I seem to hold on to some of what we said as I try not to fool myself, as I make my way through those long days and head into those long nights.

Living and learning and at times gotten just what was deserved, and feeling too like I had wasted part or half of my life with time I have lost never to be re-gained, and still I am carrying with me fragments of those thoughts and dreams like faded photographs, that occasionally fall like leaves in bits and pieces and now seem to lie scattered on the lawn. Standing here wondering in the winter’s predawn hours when the winds hit heavy if I’m remembered by some?

Having on occasion cried out to those winds and the four corners where they come from, and knowing that we all have to take time for meditation in those cathedrals of our own. With life having come a long way and having brought changes at times since yesterday. And just hoping that it’s not the same old thing over again with the truth being the only thing never changing. But yesterday might have effects on things but once it’s gone it shouldn’t really matter anymore, so I guess I’ll just let all in and try not to allow some things to happen again.

As the dark light of dawn comes in full force and illuminates all once again, except for that courtyard in the North where the jesters reside and where they play their games. And I shouldn’t have to think twice about things as all should be all right as I head down the line, though it seems at times like I’m standing on the dark side of the road hearing the dark side at times. Wondering if what I hear is real but pay most of it no mind and be flexible enough to change in stride, so I will continue on wishing some my best and to the rest I’ll say fare thee well and not give a damn.

Copyright December 2006: Timberwolf International LTD.