I walked this road for a long time.
She came, said to leave that darkness you carry.
I said I couldn't help it, can't get rid of this shadow.
She cried, those tears became rain and still I walked this old road.
Youth passing me by with scorn lovers in tow.
What I carry with me, does anyone know?
Old links dragged on my callous heels, confusion of what was real.
New days beyond the stone horizon, maybe then I can rest.
I will walk on, trying to find my own place. A life somewhere found.
I will walk on, trying to find my own place. A life somewhere found.
Whispers in my ear from long dead dreams, trying to call be back.
I won't, I see what it all seems.
Tattered cloth on my skin, a new patchwork of time.
Years by days stitching the dark lines of my eyes.
I grit my teeth to walk these miles, don't no one bleed as much as I have.
Old links dragged on my callous heels, confusion of what was real.
New days beyond the stone horizon, maybe then I can rest,
I will walk on, trying to find my own place. A life somewhere found.
I will walk on, trying to find my own place. A life somewhere found.
I'm old, too young in years. Callous 'round this heart and history on my face.
Follow this road with me if you can.
And if you can find an answer you need, you don't need to be following me...
I will walk on, trying to find my own place. A life somewhere found.
(Where may that be?)
I will walk on, trying to find my own place. A life somewhere found.
(No where in sight)
I will walk on...walk on...walk on...
The medium for the writings of Harus N. Peguero through the pen name of Isaiah Os. This space contains the machinations of my everyday ideas, thoughts and dreams at certain points. When did I have these opinions or views? Just ask. Anything here I write is up for debate, so feel free to do so.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Keeping Company
Small room in my home. I sit with my back against the wall. Looking into the corners of this night. I come to face the sum of my life looking down at me. Possessions, comforts and photographs, all of them, the gargoyles of the towers I have built. I hear a sigh high above me. These fingers playing with taut wire on wood, hums becoming a whisper of things yet to come. Take my eyes today and I can still see you in nothing. Rose and fall against the coming light, you preformed a private sonata just for me. I want and have an urge to plunge into you. Too tired to reach you, trying too hard not to slip away. Please don't let this dream end, the dream of knowing you.
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