he had a regular childhood
what else could you say?
he spent his days in imagination
he wasn't a popular kid
he wasn't handsome
as he grew up
he became less and less interested in the games he played with his brothers
finding them of too narrow a scope
and his aspirations to appease the mass of peers he was maturing with
as he discovered the world outside of his small suburban town
there's a whole world out there
there are people doing great things
far beyond petty football games and high-school cliques...
but how do you get there?
to those people
making the great fascinating world?
how do you bridge that gap
from a boring empty childhood
to the fascinating reality of those who create
that which inspires these masses to dream?
he wasn't sure
but he set off to find a way
and certain that
if he couldn't figure out how to make a bridge
he could pick his way down the precarious cliffs
find his way along the bottom of the gorge
and scale to the heights of the other side
there is no How
it's just living
live through it
and though he had many cheerleaders
people helping him believe he was destined for that greatness
he began to loose track of where he was
what the other side was
was there another side?
as he grew further and further from his youth's perceptions
the world got flatter and flatter
and he found him self walking along side those who did the work
made the art
told the stories
all frail lost humans like him self
and those he would rest with
find partners of
they weren't up there
wherever there had gone to
they were half there
fumbling along just like he
often wondering where at all they were going
they were doing it
doing it more than he
but no where near the precipice he'd once glanced
beggars can't be choosers
lazy heros can't fault their peers
but see them as sign posts of the land his path had led him too
past his youth
but still young
he wondered if he were now just somewhere in the valley..
or still heading down?
or was this the part where we start heading back up?
he'd forgotten slightly
and remembered intermittently
like the sun coming out from the clouds
only to hide again
a nice day for walking
beautiful trees, those
what's on the other side?
i'd like to go see
but i'll sit and rest here a while
just enjoy the gentle breeze and fine air
listen to the water..
where's that water flowing?
where's that water going...?
yes, my heart brought me down here
and it is my feelings that want to follow the valley...
but do i want to devote myself to feelings
and forever walk in this slight day between the shadows of these peaks?
i wouldn't like to forsake this river
but perhaps i could find one of its tributaries
and follow it up to it's spring
walking along the path it's cut
always having something fresh to drink
and listen to
and strive toward
up the hill. . .
a good a goal as any
_can only go from where i am..