Stones crunch under a tire and remind me of licenses lost for gazing,
My passion turned sour long ago,
Yet there He is again lilting on the horizon,
I know you must have seen the zenith of His adoration too,
Be not afraid they will not come for you,
Though doctors say these visions are revisions
of what Freud thought he saw in a seizure,
We might have passed together once as tears on the walk of stones
Where He stepped sidways to avoid revealing too much,
Ah, we talked to fill up the empty spaces in the horticulture,
At the cemetary once,
My four wheeled horse is hurdling to avoid collision too,
Yet this light touches me when I wheel to home I'm sound,
Alive with much to do.
-------------- Author's Notes --------------
The moment of truth is at hand. One more drug and one more plan!
Bring it on me.