I know that I am just a cloud;
A bit of vapor, floating mist
That for a moment will exist
And be with consciousness endowed
I know that you’re a lonely light
That shines aways off, glimmering
Ancestral furnace simmering
Who longs again to own the night
I know tomorrow comes a dawn
Another day of stolen care
Another morning we might share
Before the clouds and light are gone
(Originally posted September 5th, 2014 as “Folly Comes Home” – Owen)
I suppose it’s folly
To think the way I do
But on this day, our moving day
I think of me and you
And how we’ll both live in this house
Till one has gone away
And how the laughter and the joy
Will turn to tears that day
And so, let’s build up memories
In this new dwelling place;
Let’s live a life of foolish love
And laughter, so in case
The day does come when one must go
The other will recall:
The folly’s not in loving
But not trying at all
So many hands that ever turned this faucet
Have gone to rest, they’re sleeping underground;
Or had their ashes spread upon the desert,
With only wind for company, or sound —
We all get our few turns here at the faucet,
But don’t be fooled by rust, neglect or age;
How many turns we get, there is no knowing,
Just our few lines, and then
We leave the stage
Much like what has been, I’m now deserted;
The forgotten past, the here-and-gone —
And what claims I might have once asserted
Find no soul to rest a claim upon
Like a voice that cries when winds are wailing,
I have not been heard, nor will I be:
It is nothing, just a human failing —
Chalk it all up to
Mortality
Here am I, where no one knows the way.
I sleep in shadow through the creeping day.
I think it best to not get up again
And haunt once more the avenues of men.
My sister lives here too, she was the first
To find this place; before our bubbles burst
And spent themselves, quite useless, to the air,
So we this silent watch could ever share.
She ran alive into a hail of life,
While I lived angry, cultivating strife –
But none remember where we lived, or how;
We lie, forgotten, underneath this bough.
So each day, try to add another friend –
When none remain you knew, you die again
