In this aged body that wonders to and fro, how it surprises me still that it can make decisions that challenge me so. That even as I trot and roll, tumble and fall, I know not always where I shall lay either by night or by day.
In so short a time, as one drink did follow another, I chose a path that led to nowhere and satisfied nothing, but one that was taken and one that shall never be retaken or retraced.
The waves lap against my feet, sit and I stir, squirm and I fear.
The step on the train, to stay on or to get off, to work one more day in a mind numbing environment or to take that step and explore anew.
As ever my mind wanders far ahead of my body, far over green fields and glazed mountains, gliding through the fresh grass, flying through the earthly smell of animal shit.
The invisible chain is rankled only by the illusionary option of choice that lies behind the intoxicant drink but lo, no it was no dream, no it was no freedom call nor lions roar. It was squalor to make me think that I still feel, that I still have voice or a choice.
Do I hold it dear or throw it off, should I still remain flightless but forever moving – do I dream anew or do I scream forever more? Chained as I am to nothing new or old, nothing solid, nothing to anything or anything to nothing.
What is this fear that controls me, that so taunts and bids me do by invisible strings? Why can’t I shake my hide and begone, begrown anew as one should do. Do I think or feel too much or not enough, emotions barely stirring beneath the shaggy mess of adipose filth. Or am I contained by knowing I shall never be strapped to a bed for so long as compared to when I was young, leg tied down and healing ever so slowly one day at a time.
Is it my body that is restless or is it my mind never being satisfied, my curiosity never being quite sated. Routine, damn routine, though I hold it dear, I try to forget it’s power and forgive its fear.
Another day, yes another day then. Give me that morning light, give me that chance.