Topic: Memories of the Traveler | |
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Chilled to the bone, wet with anxiety I wonder in which city I awaken in today. It is overcast and a cool breeze is blowing through this alley. I have little memory of how I ended up here; however it seems an all too familiar feeling as of late. I wonder what time it is as I wipe the crust of sleep from my eyes. Yawning I feel a chill run down my spine, and the all too familiar Goosebumps cover my body. I can smell something cooking, it smells like bacon, or maybe some ham. It has a sweet savory scent as it is carried on the winds.
As I blink things seem to become clearer as another yawn escapes me. How long have I been sleeping? It seems like yesterday I had all that a man of stature could ever require. I had the boat, cars, motorcycles, house, wife, and I even had a few dogs that would great me with wagging tails as they pushed each other around to get my attention. I had want for little more yet at the same time I felt incomplete. There was something missing. I had no idea what it was yet I know something was out there that I had missed in the search for all that I had. I remembered something from long ago, yet I couldn’t quite understand its meaning. Here I am again alone, Where do I again atone. Who am I to see these things, Life a love that doesn’t ring. I wonder why I feel I’m dead, Alone I stand here full of dread. Will I find the things of gold, Just to know of things foretold. Can I see the dreams of past, Can I search these dreams to fast. Can I see a single path, Can I search the times of wrath. Can I see from dreams of old, Can I search for pots of gold. Can I see the depths of time, Can I search in truth and rhyme. Can I know the dreams of past, Can I live the dreams to fast. Can I know a single path, Can I live the times of wrath Can I know from dreams of old, Can I live for pots of gold. Can I know the depths of time, Can I live in truth and rhyme. As I write this simple words, Knowing love is too absurd, As I write for none to see, I can hide from only me. Someday when I hear a song, Thoughts of this are never wrong. Never again till day is night, Then my lord these words I write. Many times I have thought of these words. I try to understand their meaning each Time I awake in a new city, I wonder if these words are the path I am searching for, or are they some memory of a time long forgotten. Who am I? Why do I awake in another city, only to ask the same questions? I wonder if today I will understand if I am worthy to write again. |
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Worthy Yes,, As you travel on this Journey set before you,, Past becomes present,, and the Future holds new memories in the Making,, New stories to tell
((( Craig )))) ![]() ![]() |
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Worthy Yes,, As you travel on this Journey set before you,, Past becomes present,, and the Future holds new memories in the Making,, New stories to tell ((( Craig )))) ![]() ![]() It seems you hit the nail on the head, This is the beginning of an idea for a book I am going to write. ![]() ![]() ![]() G |
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Good to see you as always Craig it will make and excellent book indeed
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Splendid write G.
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Worthy Yes,, As you travel on this Journey set before you,, Past becomes present,, and the Future holds new memories in the Making,, New stories to tell ((( Craig )))) ![]() ![]() It seems you hit the nail on the head, This is the beginning of an idea for a book I am going to write. ![]() ![]() ![]() G ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
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