Breadcrumbs
These words
Stream-of-consciousness-soup really
Rarely chosen with care
Falling on thirsty ground
A lost soul trying to find
"the great forgotten language" *
For
"the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth." *
Uh-huh, I see you pointing
To the "lost lane-end into heaven" *
And the shepherd standing there
So, I tried to be a sheep, to babble things I didn't know
I found salving comfort in believing I was right
Protected
And loved--no matter what
But "the great forgotten language" *
Of the forever lost and alone
Drew me again to this place I never left
Where I knew before I nestled in her womb
The "quiet desperation" **
That haunts us all (according to Thoreau) **
So, yeah, these words
I'll keep putting them down in the lost and found
Because somebody might need to know who I am
I do
These breadcrumbs to the deep dark core of my existence
(Not to find me out but to find me in)
No one has to read them
They're uncomfortable and nearly unconscionable
Yet I can't not write them down
Like Thomas Wolfe wrote Look Homeward Angel
Then You Can't go Home Again
(LOL)
They might not lead to where I want to go
Or anywhere at all
And that's okay
T.S. Eliot said:
"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time." ***
So, yeah, that's all I want
Makes me feel less lost and alone
So putt'n deez words down Imma gonna keep
(Duh--)
* From Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe
** From Walden by Henry David Thoreau
*** From Little Gidding by T. S. Eliot
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