A friend asked him once
“Why are you sad?
Is it the loneliness?”
Without much a thought
Came out,
“I am not sad
There is a dream, that recurrs
And I am running
To catch a my own shadow
Of a man I once was
A man I want to be
I am not sad
Just tired,
For I don’t know,
How long it will be?”
And in that dream,
He saw
an escapist
He ran for things
He ran from things
things that excited
and the ones that incited
Empathy, love, sensation, emotion, intellect
And indifference, apathy, narcissism
A complex mismash,
a cultured mind and lucid heart
things good and bad
not a saint,
He was
But right thing, is
what he always did
But what drove him
He asked himself, once
and drew a blank,
Obviously
And he focused on things he could change
Him and only him,
and how he adapted
to things he sought
and the changes
that must be made
He sought peace,
satisfaction,
A little bit of glory,
and a little bit of respect
and a little bit to send his regards
to the ones who saw his dreams for him
and who formed his will
and the ones who drove him
and his ambitions
His path,
not his own
His vision,
Someone else’s
He was a coin,
dated and rusted,
that not precious
but if he keep at it,
grinding it against all the nature’s forces,
Thingking,
It just might turn gold,
One day, probably
So he kept what he knew best
He rose
against the tide,
down the slide
I rose
against odds,
that prevailed,
and died down at his feet
If not them,
then someday, maybe
But, he rose
Just as the sun does,
Ever the brighter,
Ever the stronger..
He rose
