ST62 ... Monologue of a Wanderer
There was a face for every scene i had ever lived,
I looked across the minds in time and found you hiding in the wombs and ruins of the world. A garden of hope spread out across the turf and dainty daffodils sat patiently for your love, a simple drink from your cool clear waters. There was a face for every scene i had ever lived, a front yard, a back yard, trails in the mind of every place that got me here. Here i am, partly, satisfied. The shadows are all black, the love you promised is in the vase on the last table by the exit to some eternity. Death is floundering around by the lost dreams and on those little sand castles on that endless beach to your heart. God, i loved you so intense and never held you tight enough, let you go when times were fast and one could never imagine that it would all end, that even the memories would scramble around for a stage to perform upon. I'm so sorry and it means nothing, it's gone, you're gone, it's all gone, nothing but faded pictures on a crippled facebook page and that will die, soon, also. I was so stupid, naive to not see endings coming, love dying, and the long peace wrapping it's claws around my brain. I am ready, let my last days fall into your night and let my view be new as i wander around these vast streets, mexico, minsk, somewhere, anywhere. I am grateful, thankful and sad and ok, ok with it all. I have loved life, i loved you, i am ready for the new.
I let you take me when i was uncertain. I have always been uncertain. There has been nothing more certain than this uncertainty. I followed the truth that hid around every home. I promised and kept my word and stayed true when everyone else left, i was relentless in my search. The search itself was that which had crippled me in the end. There is nothing worth the search, it was all a waste of time, a wasted life, a beautiful adventure worth nothing against this sky. There was no purpose waiting at the end of the line and yet it was worth every dream that ended in misery, in pure ecstatic memory. It was worth what it was worth. No words can convey anything about this world of mystery and dreams of no regrets, no half dreamt dreams crying for forgiveness, no loves demanding closure, no road too far to travel. Life is what it is, what it was, great, sad, meaningful, absurd, love-full, bountiful, incredibly beautiful, mysterious with some sort of deep deep illumination surrounding invisible air full of truth, love; some foundational spirit that i feel exists everywhere….. but i am uncertain of my knowing, and that is fine, i am fine with that, almost all of the time.
I wonder sometimes just how blind am i. What illusions am i beholding and how is one to see their form clear without a doubt, without fear entangleling the mind into some fancy facade. Is it possible? I think not! We are condemned to exist in this space never knowing anything for certain, absolute, but thinking into believing we do. We can feel its presence and Iive with a faith that it is all good, all ok, somehow perfectly pure, all mixed up in a head and absolutely clear out there, somewhere, just up there around that endless bend.
If nobody knows, then everybody is wrong, incomplete, 'where nothing is real', as John had said, 'and nothing to get hung about'. That is the way i tend to live life, in fields of forget-me-nots, strawberries, soft leaves falling into a distant autumn. Of course there are moments when people attempt to drag you down into the ditch that they're in, including the self, where darkness grows darker and dying is an art. That's the struggle, it gets better all the time, then you get old, forget stuff, move on down the line, to the finish line….. maybe it is that way, maybe it isn't; smell the air, walk free, kiss the cosmos, be honest, care, listen to your body, let your heart be you be true.
it shone straight thru pure and glistened
i could see it as clear as light
i sang this whisper thru-out every night
where nothing but silence had listened
A simple coffee
WeyWord Times / All Writing and Images by Patrick Wey
Hang Me Up Somewhere…. Images
Song of a Lonely Traveller - Thomas P. Wey, January 1973
I am a lonely traveller, travellin’ through the night,
Headin’ for a sunrise, a way beyond my sight;
Takin’ bits and pieces, of hardships left behind,
Arrangin’ them to victory in my fateful changin’ mind.
It’s not the way i planned it,
and i really don’t know how
The love i had yesterday
I just don’t have it now
Images of insanity, that swing back from my mistakes,
Clouds my head, twists my time, leaves me many aches;
Searching for the way, leaves time so untrue,
If I’m fallen’ down and I can’t even talk to you.
It’s not the way i planned it,
and i really don’t know how
The love i had yesterday
I just don’t have it now
I’ve been on this lonely road, for a long and lonely time,
And now when i get close to you, I just have to look behind;
It wasn’t you that threw me, in the dirt outside the door,
But everyone must know somehow, what everyone looks for.
It’s not the way i planned it,
and i really don’t know how
But the love i had yesterday
I just don’t have it now
(Patrick T Wey)
From - Leo Dubort leodubort@gmail.com
Patrick long time no see
Thought you had skipped the world for some unknown galaxy strange as you seem to b but then I'm not surprised
I am as what you seem to b that way at times a soul lost in that loneliness untethered to some dream floating like an old boat loosened from some unknown dock somewhere.
It always comes again then, as it always has, that sweet rogue wave hauling me back again to the familiar sweet
shores of myself.💜🥰
There is no place like OHM...❤💜🙏🤷♂️💋💭💭💭💭💬
I like the photos accompanying your writing....the man in the rain on a forested road...