Smoky autumn night watching the ore boats passing by in the channel out near the islands, and mainland, and watching the water as the moon slowly rises up out of the lake. Making me pause, and begin to count the many tears I have shed over the years, and I know there will be a song that will linger for forever in both my ears, and head. Hoping that hard times will come no more, for I am tired of having rigged games being played and trying my way to bluff my way through to win with a losing hand. While most seek mirth, beauty, and music that’s light and gay. There are frail looking frames that are appearing at the door, standing there with silent and pleading looks, and giving a sigh that comes from the weary.

Looking out at the water and feeling like I am carrying a worn out heart who’s best and better days are possibly finally over. Sitting here in this north country, where the winds in winter hit heavy on the borderline, and makes the rivers freeze when summer finally ends, and the snowflakes swarm. Wondering if I will be remembered if and when I finally leave here? There have been many times I have prayed in the darkest nights, as well as in the brightest days, to be able to take a stand, and overcome those obstacles placed there in front of me, by both those close at hand and by that strange arrival from a thousand miles away. Especially in those hours between sundown’s finish and the dark midnight tolls that are paid to head into the earliest hours of the new day.

Now it feels like the air is burnin’ and I am sitting here trying to think straight, with it feeling like every second is like a lifetime, and it seems that every minute passin’ is bringing me closer to God. Knowing that I just can’t turn away, and not knowing just how much longer I can wait. Seeing just the red lines, and wondering if all is just a world away, and seeing just those things that I want to believe? I would like to be able to control myself but I know that just isn’t possible here and now, and that is how it will probably be when all things begin to disintegrate. Maybe I have always been doomed, and it never made any difference through all the stormy weather I have roamed through, or during those times I could never hold my head high, as I headed on down the line with those tired, blood shot eyes of mine.

Feeling at times as if I am strolling in that lonely graveyard of my mind past those smoking fires and smoking mirror of memory, and seeing those locked doors that will never be opened again. And then again it is truly funny to think that this is the way that the end of time begins, and knowing I left quite a few of my lives somewhere back there along the line. And there have been times when I thought I would eventually be spared this fate, and those places left to roam, with there being sometimes when I feel as if I hear voices in every sound since the day I left to be here on this pier, as if I am really standing in a patch of the void.

Sitting here and feeling like I don’t really exist, and sitting here like I am wearing cold irons and bound to all of those games they play here. And I may not have anything to lose as I have few loyalties here, and I know things won’t get any better with those political games that are played and if one was to look me in the eyes they might see all of the suffering felt and the blue moon that’s hidden deep in them, with the only thing that will not be hidden is the truth. Or they might see and feel the blood in me grow cold, along with those cold green eyes with a stare that can be colder than the moon. And they don’t understand of those places where I have been, and I know that the walls of pride are high and wide, and coated with the sins of the past, with gravity and history combining to hold all things fast.

And I want most to be able to reach the end and go home to try and start all again and be able to give my hand to one who will hold on till all is said and done, and be able to feel that old heart of mine. Baring all secrets and having nothing to fear anymore, as I just ask for truth and honesty till the time we return to the dust whence we came from once and must return to again.

Copyright: Timberwolf International LTD. March 2016 – 18