I know where the four winds blow. I raise my sail to catch the way I want to go. “Slow,” I says to myself, “go slow,” but my soul wants to fly, I’m not quite sure why — probably because time rushes so.
And if I sit here too long, will I turn to stone? Will I die right here, stock still and all alone? Have I always been a child, or have I grown? The day is creeping past, and I feel out of gas. Have I seen all that this day might have shown?
It feels dumb to sit here, grasping for a rhyme. It’s not as if I do this all the time, and wasting precious moments seems a crime. Yet it’s more than I’ve attempted before, so maybe this is part of the design.
And so I mumble further down the page, hoping now I finally break out of the cage in search of cures for everybody’s rage. I know it’s probably futile, the world is far too brutal, but dreams might usher in a peaceful age.
Where do I begin? At the beginning, I suppose. But that’s the trouble — when did the story begin? And what is the story, anyway? Some might say there’s really no story to tell, or at least anything unusual or special. But that would be missing the point, wouldn’t it? Now, you might counter by asking what the point actually is, and if you can’t see the point, maybe we have nothing to talk about — and that would be something to talk about all in itself.
It probably began with the great upheaval, but who can say with any clarity when the great upheaval began, right? One day we were all neighbors and hey how are ya and how are the kids? And the next thing you know, how dare you and what the hell were you thinking?
I’m from the old school, I still love my neighbors, praise God. I have no idea what they think of me anymore, sadly. All I can control are my own thoughts and feelings, and I try so hard to keep them positive, because hey, life is short. Life goes on and on for a long, long time until one day you’re thinking how quickly it all went by. Instead of somedays and you just wait, life has become the blink of an eye and how can it be almost over.
In any case, it doesn’t make any sense to figure out where it all began, except in the sense of trying to avoid whatever started it over again if we get the chance. I’ve never met anyone who was really trying to pick a fight, they always seemed to believe it was the other guy who sucked them into this.
Maybe they’re right — there’s nothing to see here, so we should just move along, move along.
But if there’s nothing to see here, then who do we hold accountable for all that happened? We do want someone held accountable, don’t we? Can’t we even agree on that?
It’s so hard to tell. I have some ideas, but who cares what I think? It would be nice to go back to the beginning and start over, but we can’t even agree on when it started and who started it or even why.
And so we tumble around in a state of great upheaval, and any attempt to love one another gets a slap in the face. It’s all a big mess.
That’s why I decided to sit down and try to make sense of it all. OK, here goes. Now — where do I begin?
