The day seemed to start in an old fashioned way With arguments, laughter and children at play, The only thing different and wholly unplanned Was the man on the beach who drew dreams in the sand, He looked different some way, as though not of this time And his pen was a silver topped cane of life’s rhyme, That drew imaged cartouches and scrolls of the day Yet the incoming tides washed them slowly away.
From pink dawn to deep twilight he wandered the shore And he always found places that he could explore, Where the gold parchment sand was untouched by the sea Where his writings were safe and his soul would be free, He would write without nought but the words in his heart Until all of life’s daydreams had drifted apart, When the twilight was lost in the heart of night’s shade And his cane drew Amen’s to the prayers it had made.
The man walked through midnight, his cane dragged behind As he thought of what dreams in the morning he’d find, And he looked out to sea with the moon in his eyes While he thought of the many ways life laughs and cries, Then he savoured the dawn as it crept into view While he sorted his dreams from the false to the true, And he wiped off his cane as he strolled up the beach For his cane’s written night dreams were not out of reach…
Back in the Summer of eighty five thank God I was still alive music was filling the streets as I chilled by the strip here’s the trip many girls were dressed with flames both were not ashamed the innocence of
Once I was in the world as a man But my body was not found anywhere more than Uncertainty around the moving earth happened Then Sudden accident Damaged my brain how and where No one could be said I thought
“Dreams, against a wakening mind, like fleeting clouds, Weaken, vanish, and silently evanesce at daybreak … Nebulous dreams of a land unknown, Wishful hopes of a life unchained, Wistful fantasies of ambitions unbridled. Uncanny fears of a destiny uncertain Persistent