It's time to go, to leave this place
A shadowy voice does cry.
But the voice
belongs to me alone,
And still I wonder why.
The time is
here upon me now
Like a weight, heavy pounding.
Or has it
Lifted? Hard to tell
The Questions keep arising.
unknown awaits, as it does
For foolish few who dare.Is it
Or something I'm not
For I am scared and poignant now
More than ever at
Tears cloud my eyes as pen meets paper,
And I hope for
I leave behind what I comprehend
And even with
I know for now without doubt,
I drift, en
route a new location.
But who's to say what shall pass
what still lies ahead.I only know that were I'm at,
'till forever dead.
Yet for now the flame still burns
However daily dying.
To light the path less traveled
In haste I'm already striding.
But am I running from
that I cannot?
Escape from oneself is ever brief.
are again confronted, Hunting for relief.
Yet still I
follow my perilous path
To wherever it might be leading.
well it may, onto something new,
And strangely more inviting.
perhaps not . . .But who's to know, not I as yet
of anyone on this Earth,I wouldn't like to bet.
can lead in many waysOften now undesired.
Fate can deal a
cruel hand sometimes,But we play on, cold and tired.
art is born of lifeHard, dejected and trodden.
emerges exquisite beauty,And some direction from the
Finding it is a difficult thingSometimes left
But time it ticks, and years they fly,I'm
sure it can't be bought.
So we search, as do IFor things
that bring on the 'morrow.
The weak are those who don't
pursue,And languish in their sorrow.
Happiness is that I
chaseAnd hope to find someday.
I'll count the means again I'm
sure,There is always another way . . .