Child To Be

Sometimes I wander, far more frequently than I wonder. This is the curse of becoming a man.

There are mountains of grandeur, skies of beauty, and God(s) of infinite enigma. There are moments that I am a child still and lose myself for days in the grandness of it all. Yet, these days are few, and fewer still as the years unfold.

Now there are bills of plenty, responsibilities of reality, and a God I have not the time for. Yet, always to hold my hand is my lonely. Together we restore my imagination. We cry out of beauty, of despair.

Together we travel tomorrows.

Alone I dare not think of tomorrows. My eyes have grown far too sharp with insight. They cut away the layers, and majesty of our destiny. Yet, I cannot meld into today either. Somewhere I lost the chapter on simply existing.

Such was not always the case. I have tasted the bitterness of happiness. I have felt, nay have known, a momentary life of being content. As you might well imagine this is not the exact truth of the matter. For it was not me, but another man peering through my eyes.

However, he is long dead. Only his whispers remain.

And on days like this his longing is neigh unbearable.

I share in his memories with a certain fondness, a certain indulgence. I have grown enamored with his child like jubilation, and moments of absolute wonder. I have become thoroughly entranced with his sincerity, but more importantly his capacity for love.

However, he is long dead. Only his whispering remains.

Some days I pretend me him. I run, with my arms stretched wide. Like a make believe plane. Like a child with dreams made real.

I open my eyes, and my fantasies crash to the ground.

The fire burns there. Searing away the flesh, and substance, of that other man. Like some blacksmiths furnace that melts away impurities.

A forged soul stands firm against the task. The destiny of our lives.

I close my eyes again and imagine that fire. Pretending that what was left is hardened steel.

Yet, always remain these memories.

His ghost haunts me still. His loneliness breaks my heart.

Left revealed. These are the fantasies of a broken man. Of two men forged into one.

And on nights like these, I drink, and cast my sins. My solemn tribute.