When young, we mourn for one woman as we grow old for women in general. The tragedy of life is that man is never free, yet strives for what can never be. The single-most (?) secret always happens; my life, my love, what are they now?
But the more the pain grows, the more this instinct for life somehow asserts itself. The necessary beauty in life is in giving yourself to it completely. Only later will it clarify itself and become coherent.
I wander the fields and listen for the sound of drums
the colder the ground becomes the closer I get to home.
the planet's not fit to roam, what, with all the chaos
but when I saw the savages
I played the law of averages
And when the river splits in half,
I start to lose my wits and laugh and cry at the same time
there's nothing I can do about it
even though I wouldn't doubt it if the winds began to blow
and carried the sounds of my voice
to the land below
so I put my hands around my mouth
and holler to the sunken city
that wallows in the filth of its own drunken pity
and wait to see a signal
but a signal's never seen
eventually fatigue builds inside me exponentially
and so I sleep
and dream that I am able to fly with wings
later I awake in agony and learn
that while I was sleeping, the city had burned
shrugging my shoulders, I pause and gather thought
think twice about staying put
and then decide I'd rather not
so I press on in my agnostic pilgrimage
knowing that I can swim deeper
than the grim reaper,
ready for whatever sea creatures may abound
when the water swallows me and not the other way around
survival saw me through the mechanical district
starvation lays to bay cannibalistic
I've had to rely on cuns and and silence and talking quick
defending myself with nothing but my walking stick
I've never had friends and no parental guidance
I'm wild at heart and weird on top
I'm feared nonstop even though my rage has worn out
my life's a book with several pages torn out
I just climb trees and look for rhythm everywhere,
I used to be the town crier in a city of stone-throwers
until my soul was laid bare
and displayed in the pearly square
ignored more than a lot, not less
no on understood my thought process
I was gagged and bound over noise complaints
but commanding the resolve that destroys constraints
I found my escape in a melding of memories
and the next thing I know I'm rowing this boat
and blowing this note
on an old tarnished trumpet
ever since then I've been wandering lots
watching sky and pondering thoughts
strange angel, music box genie,
behind for some time now I'm blind in one eye
and how this happened exactly will never be known.