I have been feeding
on the words and music
of the greats since I was a child,
but I have never known them.
Their varied threads have woven
the fabric of my mind
into a work of art
which oftentimes astounds me.
These neurons fire,
illuminating the canvas of those artists,
and bounce back only ghostly images.
I know, but I am not known.
I see, but I am not seen.
They are part of me,
but I am not part of them.
I have no companions
in the world they created
from their distant plateaus.
It is lonely in this valley.
Their music and poetry drift
on the haunting wind
which no hears but I.
Yet I would rather go
with solitary meaning
than be lost in useless chatter
and social recognition.
I changed my shoes this year
to match the newest toe.
My feet know no difference.
Neither does my heart.
I still follow
in the footsteps of the different drummer.
I still wander by lone sea breakers.
I still wait
for someone like me to magically appear on the horizon.
And in my madness,
drink a silent toast to greatness.
Last Night
Last night I prayed for an hour
It was there I found you
I felt less selfish and moreso, too
To think that I could never have cared
I think it was there
Where Do We Go From Here?
We can't go back
Where there was perfection of character
We failed
We can only go forward
I think it's called Forgiveness
Trying to convince myself it was for you.
My mind wandered...
Back to myself and my own pain
And prayed all the more earnest
except for my own pain
made me feel small
that God heard
Back to the time when we were innocent
and hopeful
unilluminated
but not miserably
We just failed
