Stuck In the Middle

Outside the hair of a seal like dog blows across the walk with a gust of swift wind Sitting in a dark paneled room Lonely with a sense of gloom the sun shines often in the same it seems to be raining all the time, drowning the vegetables in the garden some men have grown up to be old and wise, others to be old and grumpy the rattling of a device of technological marvel, disturbs the sounds brought forth from the kokopelli forced to accept what there is for there is no hope in chasing what is wanted a desire will never be met with success lying upon a deathbed wondering how truth and wisdom passed by as if awaiting death from the entrance into existence inquiring whether or not the spirit will die standing now in the face of death it is death that has been awaiting