Grasshopper Legs

It's quiet tonight only the witterings of grasshopper legs for company. The sun has dipped leaving dark blue tones with slate grey slabs spanning the horizon. The pool is motionless, orange balls sit like flames on water, reflections of the rustic village lamps. This is the time I sit with my God and ask him of the day, a day of days like so many have passed. In the emptiness I pass words, ask questions, try and readdress the significance of my existence. To this point I am like everyone else, but cannot help feeling I am like no other. I toil with many aspects, love, faith, humanity to name a few, on the edge a smiling face , inside chewed, torn by a lifetime of compromises dealt by fates hand. Some may say you are too late in life to be asking, accept, but is not acceptance giving in to the mundane. So I pick myself and my conscience up and head for home, leaving the wittering of grasshopper legs to mull over the unanswered questions, for I am sure he was not there, never has been in the past, but the next quiet time I will try again, as we all do