The time to speak freely is not upon us yet, only its distant shadow. Still, bound, the tongue weaves a pattern as the mind imagines a world, the heart does not know.It was on a day like this, the chill in your bones, generations of unknowingness reflected in your sad eyes. We are here for a while, then gone.


You fall. Head over heels, again. There's no fool like an old fool. So, here you are, out of step, out of sync with the times. "Walk on," or walk in. The distinctions no longer interest you, are like the haze in your heart.