The stick outlining the shape in the wood
06/30 2020
The stick outlining the shape in the wood
Picked out of the deadwood drifting in with the shapes of the moon
Shaped by the sands of time through a cruel world
By man shaped into a crescent, by man forgot.
You might remember the times of death
That suddenly came rolling in, one time
In the beginning, losing count by the fifth
The train in the distance,
On the platform by the woman in high heels
You might try to take the wheel
Thundering down the highways of Mexico
But no matter what,
You're not coming back from this.
One of the same, two opposites
Joined together by the hip
Some say by necessity, but the groovy ones
Could spot the singularity from a mile away
The thing that stayed with you,
On that beach in November,
Outlining the shapes of letters
Was not the way that people moved
But in what ways you were supposed to remember
All the alibies, all the real tears.
I mean what hope was there,
When I couldn't even remember who I was
When you gathered together
To ride out the storm
In the wave of what would be a powerful memory.
A white flower offered in innocence
Over the last supper of youth
In one fell sweep that illusion was destroyed
Replaced by "reality" or whatever you might fear
Of everything in front of your possibilites
In one moment you might pray for forgivness
In one moment you might forget the decision
The morals that will lay heavy on a grave
By the mist of heavy achings
And desires aching in the dawn.
Its funny how the wind blows through us, in exactly the same way
When we try to find out the dark rhythm,
The lonely feeling trying to guide us
Always stands up and says to us
To come back in a little while.