I reside within the limits of my existence. With lots of cover on the bed, a failing electrical system, living on a poor man’s fixed wage. Still I create words from dreams I send out to who knows where. With hardly a thought of fame or worldly gain. This whole soliloquy is probably meaningless to anyone other than myself. Because honestly even I don’t know where I’m headed. With a love from a far I can only dream of satisfaction, while practical thinking dangles its carrot in front of me.
So I have no words of wisdom for you today, with my hands tucked under my arms for warmth. Still I look out across the fence at the contempt as so many others have. Waiting like vultures to pick at the carcass laid out before them. For there’s no changing a mind when that mind is consumed with fear. So I will take my of this burning fear. Praying that whatever salvation they have left isn’t eaten away with by the cold.