The 19th Hole

g_ About Wondering_What Was I Waiting For?

Look, look_Oh precious wanderer.
When and where is the love _
We spoke of.
I miss the heartbeat of the time.
I dreamed we had.

When I held you in my arms_
I thought  it was forever.
The climb brought us so far,
and then,  the  beauty of just_
being there with you.

I know you can feel the hope I have.
My heart is bursting with wanting_
The needing of the moments we had
Just here is the atmosphere of nothing lost
Nothing gained_If you only knew.

I can’t keep up my life_ away from you.
It is only through you that I exist.
Whether, I hold this truth_ to be_
This truth_ is all, that I have left.
I  have showed all_ In this breath.

A breath that breaths everything.
The one true love of my life_ is Now.
On my heart is the survival _
of a most simple request.
Why do I do these things for you?

Do you even show me? _How you care.
How dare I dream_ the dream.
This has now become_Why?
Did I even lay pen to the page?
What was I thinking?

I am looking for a new square end
to my finish…my lock, stop, and roll.
I am holding truth_ in a most odd way .
There was this dream _of one great love.
I’m not so miserable_ as I say.

What is now_  a fine  exercise …begging
To gain another day of purpose_ and_  not loss.
Why else would I wander about _scrapping at the edge.
I know certain pages hold the measure within.
I am collected now, and all is done. Again

If ever_there was a night_ this would be that night..
The very dream I spoke of_ I was born to soar _
On gossamer and golden hues. Gliding_
I Know _  that Out There_ Is the Best_ of Me.
The candle flame burns brightly on the dark.

Of natural causes _ In requiem _ To my brother.
Unlike ordinary causes_Quite unlikely the other.
I see the drift of the land of dreaming abode.
My heart is in overload, Totally driven
My spirit soars toward destiny.

What solo actions on the strings of life_ have driven.
When holding my hand_ hard against the grain.
I see the swirling multitude of anxious complex rhythms…the mighty overload.
Not music or inner solitude. This is melodic chromatic poetic squealing.
Doesn’t sound like what I listened for….Knowing
The dream begins  upon the day _I say.

There you go _ a very small_ old guitar,
I can’t even play, but I had this dream of one day wailing.
What did you think this was all for?
It wasn’t about a woman I can’t have.
It was a dream about the music I always wanted.

At heart, I have always been a singer_songwriter.
Who has never written or played a note,
But, now I have this new beginning.
All of one day old_ This could be that song.
My unrequited servitude _To the Land of my Bearings.
I hear in every voice the upwelling. Surrender.

Who writes on the night, whatever is there.
Why would I go this far?
Can I?  Would I?…  Know that you believe.
Who would follow me ?
Knowing our voluntary arrangement.

I am here and I am playing my new song
As if my life depended upon it.
One day at a time. I can only_ hope _
I proceed to hold the guitar_and sing
Tonight, I began by playing _ Tennis.

Posted by trust the rust at 3:51 AM – 11 Comments   Add a Comment   

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