I felt you before I saw you...
near silent power rumbling through my soul
as you lazed your way down forgotten paths.
Eyes straining in their sockets,
I sought you out.
Sullen behemoth, chained and guided
you toil for the moment
until, forgotten, you rest 'til the morrow,
pulling whatever burden man might choose
to tether to your soul.
...yet, somehow, I long for your freedom.
Colorful tapestry, clackety-clicking
in a panoramic slide-show.
The stories you tell are the same,
though wide spread.
Darkened heart, shadowed runner,
each beckoned by your call
as they strive to make you beautiful
in their own selfish way,
never knowing who may see the final work...
They didn't know it was my heart
that they tagged and released.
Broken, in my hand, not the bottle that I held,
slightly woozy from the run
(or the fun?) 'ere you came.
Is it my head, or my heart, pounding to the rhythm
that only you can scream
through the dark deadened night?
Is your wailing forlorn
as you remember brighter pasts,
or do you simply cry to warn hapless fools
that the morning that comes is not golden?
Have you ever mourned the fateful track
that never leads you home?
You bring comfort, old friend,
more than the Southern ever did,
and despite the death that you walk in,
tonight, I envy you.
At least you have a voice...
...at least you have a purpose.
All I have...
...is a long,
slightly cold...
walk home.
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