analyisis · conjecture · philosophy · poetry · Trainsongs · Uncategorized

That Which Keeps Us Moving

I walk each day through waves of sand.

With others every day.

We bring the oceans to the land,

And wait for yesterday.

For forty days and forty years

We travel. Play each word by ear.

And maybe stick with some strange part

To ancient voices in our heart.

We voyage like the Vikings did

Through acid, shops, and plastic lids,

And cancers, in the crippled veins

Of those we love, and those we bane.

We walk each day through waves of sand,

Forgotten thoughts of brilliant strands

And still, we’re bound by some strange art

To ancient voices in our heart.

The Hebrews were the same as we,

Though they had thinner ancestry.

They walked in search of something true.

Gave homage to what kept them new.

And still today we walk with them

Attached to love, money, and sin.

Each day throughout the waves of sand-

Bound tight to us, like time to land.

I sit and wander aimlessly

To hear the voice that speaks to me

Through barricaded years of sand.

And though I fall apart, it stands.

It lures me through hoops and streams,

Crude oil nights, and limousines.

Perhaps the voice is just a cart

Fixed tight to us through ancient art?

 

(addendum)

Some make their past a present tense

With heptagonal leafs.

Some search for love erratically,

Since their first difficult secede.

And still some look ahead, strait on!

And voyage blindly “onward ho!”

To find what they’ve fought hard to find

Some, are searching for their soul.

And still what makes us run the race?

What makes our motor spin and chase?

Or else lie down and just erase

Those things we hide, and those we hate?

Still voices, time, and seven seas

We penetrate to find the “me”

Through deserts that we call our past,

Our futures, and our first, and last.

Attached to us through ancient strands

Of magic beads that push, or ban.

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