This blog was created for others who will hopefully glean something from the words I have written.Not much to say except I ran off from an orphanage when I was 13 years old.Hopped on a freight train and joined the circus.Have been wandering ever since.I am grateful to be alive and my only desire is to leave something here for others to gain from.If I can accomplish that then I have successfully reached my intended goal.All we have left in the end is our legacy.
Our child is the sentinel We are the monoliths who embrace Muddy clouds filled with birds Under skies projecting grace With age we have grown Larger than life before our own eyes Humble existences we have had Decades go quicker than we realize Arms that still contain youth In this endeavor to preserve truth We soon shall moulder in our graves Yet not before the heart which craves Sorted flight to our private dreams Whether they be upon land Or upon waves of glory Shared moments in time ours forever The monoliths who have embraced Enduring the structures of time
The basoon stands erect waiting Cymbals lay in wait Violas and Cellos stare him down For what they will create Violins are ready to attack him At the raising of his hand The commander shall appear momentarily Bringing to life the band Will they be playing a waltz today Kettle drums look to xylophones The oboe is resting silently Deep down you can hear its moans Maybe it will be a concerto this time The symphony waits Maestro makes them impatient To see what he creates He is the master who brings them together The woodwinds meet the brass The grand piano shines brightly Its surface as smooth as glass He approaches the stage The instruments stir All is silent and well Waiting for his hand to rise up The audience begins to swell When it is finished there is rest The sea returns to placid reform Long after the silence nobody knows There is still a raging storm Within the conductor He tries to wind down Inside he is satisfied ever so mildly Thinking of the next time around When he will cause the music to flow In his place that only he can know
Looming smokestacks overlook My father works in this place Soon he will be able to go home Together we will walk a brisk pace The five mile distance to home Where his dinner awaits Mother sits by the table in the kitchen Having already set the plates Maybe we'll sit on the porch for a bit If father is not too tired Listening to the music on the radio In this simple life he's desired I always help mother clear off the table She never has much to say It is peaceful in this house of mine Grateful for each single day When school is over I work the fields But I never fail to meet father We walk the miles together each day And it is never a bother I lay in my bed late at night Wondering of what will be When I will work and have a home If I will have a child to wait Who will walk the miles with me
