Sunday, March 8, 2009

261. COMING NO ONE MY WAY NO MORE

COMING NO ONE
MY WAY NO MORE
Consider the lilies of the field...these items of
secure devotion, innocence and rapture, whatever
they are, they neither toil nor work and yet - well,
I assume you know the rest. We're supposed to find
a solace in all of that too, I guess.
-
I'd rather the wind.
You know, that which tears the lilies to
shreds, rips them from their moorings, lifts
them from their beds. Something about
the adventure; keeps me on edge, better
apt to energize, more inclined to hedge.
I just like it that way.
-
This life, you see, has a geography all its own.
Coming, no one, my way, no more;
I guess I'm going home.

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