I speak for myself when i say, 'hey, is this for real, this world full of wonder and strife. Where are the real gods, the real shamans and all their blessings, where are the sunny days with my love in hand, where are the moments of direct truth'?
A horse and a rider gallops thru the pass. A low lit afternoon light shines thru the pines by the edge of the ridge and time moves towards its disappearance by a river bank. The end is coming soon, it's all relevant. The highways are stretching off to the limits, the towns all look the same. Age is just a number with wrinkles and dying cells. When you told me that you wanted more but there wasn't any thing left, i held you for a year or more before i let time turn cold and told you i wouldn't be back again. You cried, i cried, there was nothing we could do. The end comes no matter how hard you try to hold it back. Things change, winds blow, love dies.
Buy me an americano ?
WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey
Hang Me Up…. Images
If you’re wandering around down here amongst these paragraphs, great, say hello. Dragging words thru the swamp, can drown you, no matter how well you swim.
I feel like this is happening now, on a manageable scale. The weather is changing...we want it, we need it...to have an unusually warm winter would make us feel lazy and not feel motivated to travel where it may be warmer. The days are getting brighter, cooler and then, a 'cold snap' hits us...in the face.