Journey '01
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind
Standing alone again.
Elated by a false sense of freedom,
Contemplating surrounding,
Paths before closed spaces.
If I were to jump,
Where would I be caught?
Surely not here.
Intoxicated by green,
Tired by my sycophantic nature,
Spidder-webbed within my own self-worth.
Captured by the flashes of occasional spirits.
In death where are we lead?
Exhaling for the last time,
Remembering clearly those very first steps.
Boxed up tightly,
In quiet hums under Georgian trees.
Gathered like dust,
And flushed maybe, amongst the West coast smog?
I look back,
Over years that had fallen and passed.
Back towards you,
To the bedroom where we both lay.
I shall stay here,
Inhaled in your arms.
As you exhale,
I step inside you a while,
Eyes shut and feeling for comfort.
But you do not see me,
I am just a distant memory.
Stepping back out,
Engulfed by the moment.
While you unwind,
Look for emotion:
It's unfounded here.
Where we became lost,
Like so many souls that passed before.
Left to rot upon these beaten paths,
Watching as they take on new rhythms.
Splits turn to deeper cuts.
As these woods they had once found me in,
Become distancing seas,
Unforgiving flows of water,
Bonds and clutches broken.
Swirls of confusion prevent jumping,
As I rush to the edge and then stop,
Toes clutched tightly,
Balanced by a backwards glimpse.
So scared of racing on alone.
Will there ever be another welcoming?
Or did you already outstay yours?
When I awake, where will I be?
Unsure, I'll just climb down.
Running on without you.
For one thing is sure,
Where you are found,
I shall fall.
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