As we slid, I entered the stage with dim red and white lights. The place seemed still but with fluidity, as if the still lights continued to show the moving ones. The affects of life's back didn't help the cause. Music played fast yet slow, not symphonically but to the same beat. The night was fine, the drizzle didn't seem to affect wheels that lines could not stop, dashed or solid. It was a lost cause. Comments that spark fire are comments better said to one's self. Even though I leave a trace, don't be drawn away from the facts. The night is young and anything could happen. Life and death might just visit and give us a warm welcome or a rough goodbye. We the unexperienced will never know, or dream close to knowing how it exchanges the most sacred of all things. Maybe it might forget us but for now we just left home and the trip back is a long one. For now, let us depend on the stopping mechanism.
No comments:
Post a Comment