It seems like the days get longer, and my eyes get weaker. Looking for a place where I belong. Not a moment do I feel like I have a place in this world, that I can call my own; my home. Sometimes I sit and wish on the fading stars of the night, that mercy will surround me and send me flying home, to a place where I belong; I place I can call my own. Where the only thing you hear is laughter, joy, and no fear. Free as the night wind howling through the trees, like a spotted owl lurking for its pray; you on your own can survive. The night shadows don't creep and have you calling, screaming in terror, your completely satisfied. You feel like you can do anything, everything. The world is yours, in your hands, at your grasp. And your destiny is the fate calling out from the stars. The moon is your only friend, guiding you along your mid-night path, being led by a single shimmering moonlight, tracing your feet in the snow. Every where you go you seem to have a motionless, demeanor just taking the world in the a fresh cup of coffee in the morning. Jerking you from your drooping eyes, and sending you on a full alert mission, nothing can stop you. Time is your endless debate, only you can control it like a pocket watch in your sturdy, hands.
Backroads, And lost Hearts.
January 4, 2012