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