Where am I going?
How will I get there?
What will I bring along?
Are people kind there?
Is peace of mind there?
Will I finally belong?
Some poets say that
There'll come a day that
I'll find what's right for me.
Why aren't I there yet?
Why can't I share yet?
Why can't I be free?
'Cause you know that
Ships sail their courses
And heros ride horses
They know where they belong.
But I travel in circles
Quickly to nowhere
Singing my unfinished song.
Styx
I can hear the sizzle of newborn stars, and know anything of meaning, of the fierce magic emerging here. I am witness to flexible eternity, the evolving past, and know that I will live forever as dust or breath in the face of stars, in the shifting pattern of winds.
