Untitled

Untitled I think you suffer greatly, in the light of awareness, during the late hours of night, life for you, a miss. Why your spirit walks with shadows ?, is anybody’s guess, why your soul lives in the past, needs to be put to rest. Living in the now, you need to do, find in life, it’s best. Time to climb aboard those wings of freedom, fly on the winds of peace, sing of a kingdom that encompasses all that’s good surely it will come your way, so that you might get to enjoy some of all that you feel you have missed, not made you numb. I suppose ?, for you, all of this doesn’t really matter, for you think that I am as mad as the Mad Hatter. Thoughts, blown by the four winds, they do scatter throughout my empty head, as it gets fatter, as it gorges upon – fills the empty spaces with antimatter. This mind, as mad as that of the Mad Hatter ? Is this?, the mind of this decrepit old soul - is anybody’s guess – certainly, I do not know, for as I look into the mirror, the other side doesn’t show me, which way the four winds, me, will blow. B. J. “A ”: 2 October 24th 2002