My travel of golden and blue dust.

Here I still am
A wonderer with no destiny
A Soul with so many years on its mind
That to no time belongs anymore.

The lone traveler looks at his own as another
Delivering happiness to so many
And leaving death and destruction
On his trail.

He lives the solo life with the ever changing passenger
That falls in love with the wonders he shows.
Yet those wonders do not last
For he himself does not allow for earth to be born.

Once more he navigates
Through the sea of the tomorrow and before
Between the fire of the French lands.

I am the last. I am my own.
Watching is. Absorbing what is and was, what will be still.

I read no more of the stories that I am of.
Yet I yearn for my completion
For the feeling of nonexistence of the untouchable.
I travel with no more then my mind
For it is my soul, my forever Clock,
That ticks for no purpose any longer.
Just a shadow in the corner of your eye,
Just a shape behind the mirror,
Just a shiver in a white of snow winter night,
Just a key for a no longer blue door.
The final key, never to be seen, heard or touched.
A cursed key.
My travel of golden and blue dust.

Just me.

Maxwell Black

02:08am

10 Jun 2009