Friday, January 15, 2010

It speaks of dreams and heartaches

"On the Road" (found photograph)
keep art alive ~ artist unknown

"They say that I am crazy,
my life wasting on this road,
that time will find my dreams,
scared or dead and cold.

But I heard there is a light,
drawing me to reach an end,
and when I reach there,
I'll turn back
and you and I can begin again."

2oo More Miles (live) ~ Ryan Adams, Cowboy Junkies, Natalie Merchant & Vic Chestnutt

I was born with the soul of a gypsy, passed on by my Grandfather before me, and who knows who else that wandered soulfully, and restlessly, before him. My dreams are filled with movement, fluid and changeable, with winding roads and endless bodies of water and spacious skies surrounding me.

If it were just me I would get lost more often, run, disappear, meander through the streets of new cities, leaving my shadow marks in the form of stamped wish you were here postcards, collected matchbooks, and the clang of a tip left behind for the counter top cup of coffee.

But I stay, I persist, and part of me likes the comforts of familiarity, even if I've yet to find anywhere that truly feels like home. My heart, it clings too, trying to hang on for dear life to something, someone, some shred of hope and trust and belief in the existance of love.

But love is like a map, folded and unfolded again and again, you can rely on it, you can ignore it, you can believe in its every twist and turn - or you can let it fly right out the window. Sooner or later, though, you might find your way back to it, and wonder if you can begin again.

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