Standing here looking out on that Temple of Life again, and seeing what looked like a goddess rising from the mist of memories, having me recall the ballad of Cathain. Hearing a voice and seeing a face and closing my eyes knowing all is just an illusion, and knowing there are times when I can’t hold my head high and knowing too that some beauty was simply destroyed. Which at times leaves me blind and cold, like the surface of the moon, and like those mist covered mountains out on the horizon. After having been through a few baptisms of fire, overcoming fear and traveling on down the line, and feeling as though I have traveled through many different worlds and in many different guises of life. And I ain’t gonna grieve no more, and when knocked down I’ll just get up again.

And there are times when I wonder what I am going to say to those I pass by, and wonder if I should just stay for a while, or just keep on keepin’ on down the like some kind of a bird flying by? Living at times for tomorrow and still looking for the answers to those questions just like The Seeker the Who wrote about. Still holding on to some of the memories that cause me to relive some of the moments of my past life, and wondering if I will leave anything behind when I am dead and gone? Or if someone will stop and think of my passing and sing my songs still? Recalling that a fortune teller read my cards and my palm and said I would one day be free; but never said when, and she had those two homemade cards I once saw when I was walking out of a station somewhere.

Three decades ago I should have died and it allowed me to be one who can say I have lived twice; once when I was born and the other when I faced Morpheus’ sister Death and walked away. Moving after midnight down those boulevards full of broken cars, passin’ those windows made of glass lookin’ like eyes followin’ me as I pass. And wondering if I will once again see my sweetest friend who took my hand in an empty room? Hopin’ they didn’t suffer when we went our separate ways, and stood their ground, especially when life dealt them a hand from the bottom of the deck. Taking the pain and converting it instead to power rather than dwelling on it, and raised a cup in the dark crimson light of the setting sun.

Now looking out beyond the horizon and whether it being Spring or Fall, time passes and love sits there waiting for one and all in some shape or form. As I feel my wretched heart pounding and feeling those memories drowning in a form of a mortal bliss, and causing me to wonder if they can see me now? With there being times I have been meek, and at times I think I might just be growin’ soft or just getting’ to be a bit sensitive about it all? Then again I have seen all the pretty people and their plastic lives disappear like smoke, along with friends arriving and disappearing from time to time.

There have been times when I would like to go back to the beginning and aware that nothing seems to be easier said than done. So I guess I will ask my sweetest friend if they can answer those questions of silence, or if they will come back and haunt me, or whatever makes her happy to be doing? Letting her do as she must and with her doing it well. Though I might be able to see for miles and miles at times and I am able to see it and know it in my memory, while knowing I was never magnificent like some were lead to believe.

Not feeling any pain as I stand here on the dark side of the street out in the pouring rain, with no one having to guess time had come to lay down that weary tune I have been carryin’ in me for so long, and to hear those drums of the dawn as the sun’s dark light turned the horizon red, as the new day broke. And though moments have passed me by I still can’t turn away, and now we seem to be caught up in things, and she hides there at times beside me. Knowin’ life is more than who we are, with there being times there is nothing to believe, or believe in, with the knowledge that; Behind everything of beauty there is some kind of pain.

Though there might be times I might not be sure where to begin and know I ain’t running anymore even if the hands of time tick no more. And why should I wait any longer for the world to begin or for the one that’s loved who’s standing right there? As we wander down the line on those back roads and it might be painful to smile but at least it hides some of the scars, and may we be missed by those we leave behind.

Copyright: Timberwolf International LTD. March 2016 – 19