Monday, February 16, 2009

Another Late Night

...and no sign of the end of the road, the narrowing tunnel, the broadening expanse of the dreamlands call. You are so wrapped up in the cocoon of your own changes that you can't see out, stretch out to share an arm and shoulder to cry (havoc) upon.

I cannot need you so much, who have so little to offer in trade.

Trapped in the patterns, in the road travelled too well, and the ruts too deep to lift a crippled foot free.

I saw an old horse yesterday, heavy and lethargic and hurting. His knee looked like mine, his leg misshapen by pain and lack of use. If I was a horse, I'd have had me put down ages ago. What hope of a life without movement, freedom?