I sit riding shotgun peering through picture frames of life
Passing the passers weaving the web, forlorn faces misted with intent
A Journey? Yes! we ride, involuntarily as the prisoner who is forced
into committing a painful suicide
Split-level, a duplex of worlds, dimensions, simultaneous travel of time
and space
The clarity exists here
The clarity of walking in the icy rain, so cold it turns to ice on your
jacket and grass blades, help a lonely flat-footed cop up a small
ice-glazed hill
Just because you were there, Just because Jah-Jah put you there,
seemingly without reason
The clarity is the oil on gears turning the great machine of our existence
The infinite construction of the endless chain
Where would society be if we could remember our births, as foul and
Holy as the creation of Babylon
I sit wondering at the industry passing
Burning gray in the dusk, shiny black liquid caressing rust-beaten
bellies of steel
Fire of Jah light reflecting on invisible floating mirrors cascade bricks
and concrete
Tell the stories, tell the mountain…….. he knows
Do we ride? yes I ride.
Reason for writing:
a car ride
Birth sign: Cancer
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