|
By coujeaux Date: 2004 Oct 20 Comment on this Work [[2004.10.20.11.53.8390]] |
|
Somewhere just south of where I was supposed to be, drew a compass in the dirt with my hand, To dare the forces that worked against me so often to give me passageways I could understand. In a crouch not unlike a prayer unto utter abandon, I felt the winds shift accordingly, right on cue, And felt the hiss of bitterness from the blackest of Gaea's jealousy whisper "I shall conquer you". 'Twas truth in the sentiment I could not ignore, save for long enough to ramble on; wait your turn, For when the conclusion waits in expectant embrace the air of impatience is rather easy to discern. Recall primal steps from safewomb sanctity; children are never taught to cry, but their mothers do, Silent exhortations upon holy books to protect their greatest sacrifice from the struggles they knew. But as the dreams held for their success are engendered in the hearts of their keeper, truth be told, None can shield the delicate soul of a newborn foundling from ravages of a world force them unfold. Respect reality of gravity, you see our anchorage upon unrelenting soils; a one foot then two foot in, Into downdepths you go, so struggle not, wayward one; protesting in vain, tug of war you cannot win. Once was I a scattershot wanderer, sampling wares of womankind, taste of spirits, every sin in sight, Until necessities of returning to the landscapes I'd known in innocence convinced me to make it right. Recklessness decorates well youth spent in pursuits simple in scope to observers; straight up, chaser, Then happen to meet worthwhile ladylove and cringe in realization your history comes with no eraser. In all, perhaps it redeems or is more complex than it seems, but you've a destination, even far away, Spend yourself in hot pursuit or gain perspective as one now resolute, in time come you home to stay. 08/12/2004 |