Dark Open Road
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, and I am not sure where I should begin, as I ask those questions about the faithful being rewarded and will I miss the final call or warning for having lived this lie of a life? I can only name where I have been, and I know that I have been there and back again, as I ask that you stay inside the confessional until you hear me leave. While the darkness begins to fall like waves that crash upon the shore. While I try to live, and come to terms with memories, and remembering those who’s patience I pushed along with my luck while they shouldered; if’s, ands, and buts. While giving all and then finally giving up in disgust.
We carry our choices and hide all of our regrets as best as we can, and maybe one day we will choose the best with the rest of what we have left. We also have debts, and for living, we must pay, and one day we will square up and pay off those tabs. There times when I wonder if someday I will be missed by those I have left behind, or if I have touched anybody’s life like they have touched mine?
You and I have been friends and seem to have understood this place better than most, and we both have known more than most as we have been waiting for time to pass under the dark light of the sun to find our place. Maybe we have been victims of foolish plans out here where those rivers of blindness run, and feed that whirlpool of lies. As the story continues onward, with each bridge that’s crossed and carrying with us those lessons learned, with some of them at a cost. While the winds can be felt blowing across the plains that seem to call to us in the heat and under blue skies where eagles have flown, with nothing to fear.
Somehow all of this is part of me and apart from me, and at once I knew I was not magnificent as I stood here on the road and looking back like some always do, and being able to see for miles and miles. Saying nothing and that seems to be fine with me as I make my way on down the line and ain’t talking in most cases. With there being the years you bought to be able to talk for me, far from that old highway or West Texas black topped ribbon road I was heading on down and carrying that in memory. Far from the maddening crowds trying to run as fast as I could in the darkest hours to escape the sounds of laughter and pain there in that concrete jungle. Being at times like I am holding on to both memories, and time and trying to not either slip away.
Wondering where some have gone and asking myself why they have changed, as I feel I have opened my eyes to a rude awakening. Still, the tears are the same and sometimes catching myself thinking about the years and what was lost and can never be regained, and after the storm and the fire will you still stand at my side? If you could dream anything what would it be, and would you share it with me? Old habits die hard, and there are times when it is painful to smile, but it covers some of the scars and takes the attention away from your wounded eyes. Appearances may change with time when we look in that mirror on the shelf, but it never changes who we are.
There are moments we thought would never pass us by along with those things that were either lost or thrown away, and those scars we carry are the reminders of places and who we were, and it infuriates some to know that life is bigger than who they are. So, talk to me and know that I have done wrong and been where fools have gone yet, there is nothing I can’t do, and I think I have earned the right to hear all you have to say. It seems as though half a mile from here all things disappear making me wonder where I should be right now, and to keep on pushing down the line as if I am running late.
They once said that emotion would be involved but, they were never very clearly defined about that or was it a matter of time when they would be involved? So, I am standing here hoping you will understand and not let go of my hand.
Copyright: Timberwolf International LTD. March 2017 – 14
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