Sunday, January 24, 2010

different audience

I ran from my house, that cannot contain me...

Walked across the bridge as I had done many times before, it's spirals darting to the sky.

I ran from the noise and the silence, from the traffic on the streets..

Heard the slow whistle of the elevated train as it bounced over it's rickety track in the damp cool air.

I ran past the churches, and the crooked old mailbox, past the apple orchards and the lady that never talks...

Up into the hills, I ran to the cemetery..

Forced to exit, down the stairs, air getting colder, calm silence penetrating my mind, drowning out all thoughts.

And I saw the crumbling tombstones, of forgotten names.

Foster, Wyckoff, and Dr. Dunlop, M.D, small houses in the city of the dead, offering a quiet audience to my rambling thoughts.

I ran to the forest, I ran to the trees, I ran and I ran, I was looking for me.

Cover the paths I've walked a thousand times, though the journey is always a thousand times different.

I ran and I ran....

blockage broken, mind cleared, words flow again. well worth the trip.

italics- lyrics from Mer Girl

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