There's not a lot I can say about this one that it can't say for itself...
I cannot face the mirror anymore, and my beard is down to the floor; this winter is too long where I stand to die all over again like so many times before.
And time is too long here, where the shadows grow, as I turn back into dust; and maybe this could be the last time of it all where I venture past another midnight, frail and strong at the same time, like the tears of a mountain flowing to the ocean to be gone.
All the faces have disappeared, that haunted me, and I don’t miss them anymore, I have gone a long way past that.
When I left the temple grounds through the outside door, the sun shone into my eyes, and all was too bright as I made my way to catch another train that would take me anywhere, somewhere, just so long as it was away from where I was.
Some rumbling miles later, I was still aboard and fast asleep against the window where my soul had flown.
My stop came and went like a dream as I snored away into the future and thought of many things, and all of them led me to here, but I had no idea of where here was, in fact I’ve never known where here is. Some call this freedom, and run like mad to escape.
Others, like me, grow the beard ever longer and take a bottle of wine on Thursdays and an easy river across the great divide to fall out the next day wondering what had happened
They tell me there are many versions of this wandering about all over the place, and I kind of have to agree that this is true in some way for I bump into them everywhere I go, and as I fall over, I have to wonder: who am I?
Having so much to do I became tired and had to lie down for a while and rest.
When I woke up I found I was in the future and not in the past anymore; this is where I gave a loud cheer, until I looked around and saw desert for as far as I could see.
Get out of that, mister man.
Oh, it’s not you again, is it?
Of course it’s me, who else would it be?
Now you’ve got me thinking, about that.
What’s there to think about?
Well, now that I’m in the future, how do I get home?
You turn around, that’s what you do.
And go back to the past?
No, no, never go back there.
If I cannot go back there, then where else can I go?
How about turning inside?
I went there once, and found the reception of the angels a little abrupt.
Perhaps you weren’t praying hard enough.
So, he’s deaf, is he?
Almost certainly by now.
So you know who I mean then?
I guessed.
You guessed, how?
It was on the spur of the moment.
So, let’s recap: there was a spur of the moment; abrupt angels; some future of now, how do I get home stuff, and a lack of praying. Would that about sum it up?
It would most certainly would. How do you intend to pay?
You intend to make me pay?
Sure, anti-up.
What will you take?
Master-card, usually.
Is there nowhere we can go to discuss this?
I’ve got a room.
You don’t say?
I sure do.
Well that’s mighty straight of you.
It’s in the blood.
Are you talking about oxygen?
I forgot long ago what we were talking about.
Image is mine