So, what is love?
How cliche,
That I above,
Would indeed say,
Something that has
Been time and time again,
Pondered as
A question of lose or win.
What? You say that's too narrow?
Well have you ever fallen in love?
Didn't think so, young sparrow.
So, I look to that above,
That which I cannot attain.
A true hardship is love,
Full of strife and pain.
But that is not what I feel now!
No, not quite.
See, I practice the bow,
And train for the fight,
And inside me,
There is a fire.
That, I do not need to see,
I feel the fire,
It burns and grows
With every passing day.
And then the wind blows,
And blows it all away.
But the flame is always rekindled,
Somewhere or some way else,
Though as time is dwindled,
So is everything else.
I waste and piddle my time,
Until it is all too late.
I hear the bell and its chime,
And I accept my fate.
I do not act on my feelings,
Because I am consumed with fear.
Fear of short-comings,
And fear of none other than fear.
Fear of inadequacies,
Fear of failure,
And as the aqueduct bleeds,
Down, down into the fissure,
I stand alone on the bluff,
Watching those below me.
They all have enough,
But they cannot see,
That they are truly blessed.
They have fires!
Ones that do not rest,
And ones with impenetrable wires.
Their fires do not dwindle,
They are not afraid.
And as for their spindle,
Their thread is never frayed.
Always balanced and focused,
Truly lucky are they,
To not be born locusts,
And to say what they want to say.
One day I'll build a fire,
If I could only find a supplier.
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The Hobo Tales # 2
I think this thing now consists of mostly poetry and song lyrics. Enjoy anyway.
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Signatures are for squares.