Another empty hallway echoes the freedom of youth
another window speaks in tongues of lark and gibberish
speaking only in languages I have barely ever known
It’s a windy path ahead, and all I got is a rope and a way
but the winds, they blow colder as time trickles down
An uphill task, an unglorified tale
spare me the detail
when all you strive for is left weak, frail.
all you’re looking for, a quieter sail
alas, only sea and the breeze to whisper sweet nothings.
and you wish the music were lighter
the rain, quieter
the storm rages on outside the window now
but the shadows lurk beneath the bed
what might you say, to strike down the wondrous mellow bed of death
that calms you to the lull of sleep day after day
offering you a slight embrace and an understanding of all that’s dealt
of you and your fate, a shifting pack of cards
you play some, you lose some
would you play again? take a bet with the gods of chance?
or maybe worse, you dodge and dance and prance
avoiding the unescapable decay
you will find your way, oh you will some day
why would it be this way?
you ask, the universe in play
nay, there are no answers mate
behind a silver spoon and a rusted plate
one must walk.
further, to keep walking is the hardest part
a stop here, and maybe oh there! a start!
not as black and white
or so it may appear
for lose sight too soon, and the oasis disappears
there is truth in your fears
know that fate only throws winds
but it is you, my friend who has to steer
there is truth in art