As my mind takes flight from my weary soul |
This was intended to be a request for a review from a single person. It has turned into something I am unable to label. When I look out my window I sense that there are people like you out there; even though time and weather have seriously etched my view of the world. I really don't know how to ask for a review of something as close to me as the beating of my heart. Much of what I write is inspired by dreams, during long dark hours staring into the abyss. What might have been, if only I were not such a fool. Do you have thoughts like that when silent emptiness roars like a hungry pride of lions at the foot of your bed? I will remain here at my window searching for answers, I am sore afraid to tempt the spirits and awaken the music of the spheres. The thunderous roll of the storm, the very anger of the gods unleashed, serves to make me aware just how small and insignificant a mere mortal such as I really can be. I wait patiently knowing that sometime soon I will understand. I only hope my feeble efforts are judged worthwhile by the one who stares back at me with exhausted bloodshot eyes from the mirror of my mind. Perhaps this communique will be proved to be just the ludicrous ramblings of another old man who is not worth a quick glance past his shield of rhymes, riddles, and pompous prose. Does he fail to touch even one heart? Time will tell, after all it leaves cracks in basalt rock as eons pass, and perhaps the trail etched by one single tear celebrating a fleeting moment of sharing a look through the window of his soul.
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