Fog
Cryptic sounds on the radio showed up the road as much as our lights
Descriptions of the future, or mystery put into words and music
Fog on the land, a shroud in my mind and in the detail of what was to come
Never would the spreading mist clear; it was a dark path to never
Scratchy noise in the music descending as though I needed to be humble
It seemed there was enough to go around, and shadows stayed at bay
It might have been as light shining down on me, and so much the merrier
The night ate my karma, never realized. Don’t play music in the fog
For the Future
To spite the spirit of the masses as I understood them
Over the shoulder was propped a pack with my book
Perhaps it will serve, no mere dumb thing’a rhythm
That I would trade for a mere gift of thy look
Whether quietly I might prefer to be
To another cold night lonely but free
If my rapt mind could so easy be shook
It might be best that my attention took
To when again I had returned home
The book shelved in its place, the pithier tome
With that volume resting, I know time will allow
That other version of me, that persona does take its bow
It is true the stage is dark
I will think again before I try this lark