i told myself that i was losing ground that some how things would have to change they could not keep going the way they were. we'd been working a long time how long no one could really say, it just felt like the horizon was lost and nothing but a murky black at our backs. somewhere i was in it sloughing slothing slowing, only small tides rippling around my sides to show for movement at all. but is that forward. is that forward. there is no direction and suddenly i can't tell.
here at this juncture i hear small voices, tiny twitterings in the fading that say happy more like bells they sound like birds or bells whichever there s not an accurate way to describe it but their voices resemble the ripples around my legs, the pants i wear they don't feel so heavy on me anymore maybe it's just that my focus has shifted yes it has shifted from weariness to that place that only you go small bats and birds flying into the smokey light.
how can i stop now, i says, when i've put all my eggs in one basket
if i stop now then i'm as good as dead
yes, they said multiple theys they are, yes no way better to go than to go forward
covered in shadows in every which direction you must still go the way of your eyes will will show you your front from your back, that is the forward you will know
at the cost of my rump with no defense losing to the shadows and then everything else going with it which will make me nothing but a pair of eyes and whatall good will that do
good or no good you've got it coming, theys say, you might as well face it
okay, okay, says i, that's scary, that's a raw deal i've been handed
you gone dont like it, that's too bad
that's scary i says
my stage name is flyawhile, baby!
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