Yesterday i was many things
and today i am only one
a farm is a field is a fence to a cow
a drive to a house to a man full of labor
and a barn full of sunrises
blazing stories over meadow
A day is a morning
full of coffe and promise
a lunch is a pause in a midnight sun
and the afternoon sets a table for
twilights mischief
I have been these things, only yesterday
But today, i am only a dirty mug
on a barren shelf in an empty barn
the needle that drones
at the end of a Victrola's symphony
I suppose the many things i was yesterday
go on without me as they should
in the land beyond my surrender
where the colours hid my fear
But i have found to let them go
is to be let go if never was
yesterday i was many things
today i am only one
1 comment:
Oh to be only one thing. Do you think I could handle myself then? As in a chore, a check list...who couldn't manage just one? But to be so long a scroll...sigh...seems I may never know myself but legion. Perhaps in that there is less loneliness, all these selves jostling for space in the cupboard, making too much of a ruckus for spiders. Damn though, I do like the scratch of an old victrola. If you gotta be just one thing...well...you chose wisely.
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