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
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