A little bit late this week.
Boy....it was some Journey let me 
tell you.   (I am, and always will be, 
the Segue Queen.)
I can't honestly say I am completely satisfied with it yet. 
Let's just consider this one, a work in progress.  
But it's a long one too. 
Better grab a snack.








The Lonesome Highway
(Where it turns out, I was not alone at all.)

I walked a lonesome highway
with not a soul in sight
no weary, travel-worn wanderer
to share my wasted hours
just darkness visible (1)
in that hollow place
where fear and faith collide
while pierced-breasted birds sing
as they flail upon the thorns
a woeful prison'r of the worst kind -
a captive unaware!
dragging chains unseen
as the hunger gnaws, and the thirst thickens
with every dusty foot-fall.

I met a man on that darken'd road
just as the sun did rise
and all the glory of a new day
was measured in his step
"why does thou drink the sand -
when living water runs nearby?"
I knew not how to answer - so far I'd lost my way.
this restless, relentless will that push'd
 ever farther down windy paths
of twisted fate and forgotten dreams.
Yet.  somewhere in the cold shadows
hope still clung in soul-full wisps
I only whispered his name
before I hit my knees.

And on that dusty, broken road
I let the son-light in
to spread it's glow
in that shadowed place
let Truth and Truthfullness abide
so chains break free, and hunger sleeps
and at last I drink my fill
in that peaceful river tide
Love like a beacon
calls me from out of the dark
sets my feet upon the path
with no thorns piercin' my praise
I rise to my rest -
and start my long trek Home.

And should I pass, a weary soul
who crawls upon the dust
my cup I'll share
while my tale is bled
from a heart finally set free
And if you listen well my woes
you'll see the way, the truth
to life lie's not ahead
where all true light has dimm'd
you'll know you've tred too long
the path of dark despair
when sand tastes cool
and the trees bear thorns -
and you hear that sad birds' cry.

(1) from Milton's poem, Paradise Lost, Book One, Line 63

Go see other poem's at the lounge.
live signature