I give myself permission to explore.
all important
I tell myself stories will emerge
eventually,
in their own time, in their own way.
If I wait for you to notice where I'm going,
I'm already lost, already chasing my tail.
So... Happy trails all you denizens of the non-real world.
Although I've been told you really do exist,
that I must accord you all the courtesies and respect
one would grant real live people,
I'm not convinced
you do,
except for this edifice you keep raising
upon my blood and guts and bones
without so much as asking.
Well... Good luck with that.
You can always find me here,
within these boundaries,
plying my trade:
sidestepping your charades,
avoiding the intriguing masquerade,
making time to pursue my thoughts
taking me from now to then
and back again and
occasionally wandering in
~ if angels will it ~
times to come.
Peace to all who read here.
YOU ARE READING
Express, baggage and all...
PoetryObjects in the mirror are closer than they appear... Just when you think you've put something behind you for good, you look back and find it trails you like your very own comet's tail, lighting a path through the dark. Reading through these pages...
