The time traveller
On Nov 2nd, 2014
With 0 Comments
For he who has travelled returns
eyes wide open, faraway and longing
for those heart felt days.
Where tears are spiked with vodka
and the tarmac blisters your feet.
There is no going back, save for the man
with deep pockets. Only travel stops
the time where it is left in the mind.
The fleeting look, the ridden horse and
the men of bars. A discovery of soul.
Runaway plucking at the chest emotes
the heart to timeless somersaults and
burnt memories of every detail.
Hard won miles, fracture muscles,
burst bones and blisters of the mind.
Every country finds new friends
keen to question, fresh with answers.
Succinct dialogue cherry picked.
Scented fruit and melted apple
flavour the flared nostrils of work.
And then there are the views.
Thumping at the ribcage.
Cloud scenes that race, drift and
fish their way across endless skies
threatening epiphanic change.
Birds flock, flee and cry to distant trees.
Their tantalising presence excites,
torments and rails against nature.
Exotic sirens suffocate the air
confusing intended prey and sit.
Pretty, naked and lofty the inaccessible
avians soar, tease and majestically
plummet to closer inspect victims.
And then time stops, they are gone
and the severed heart stills.
We are left with open water,
Deserts of trees, Storms of sand
and the reflected muse of sunset.
Golden buds of rain endlessly
track down every pore to wet.
But there is hope.
The juice that drives us,
a half full ocean of optimism.
Every step, the ghosts of passing smiles
push the miracle that is our body.
It is not theirs to know, but their faces
caress and vitalise sysiphean struggle.
New nadirs starved by biblical spirit,
zing and zoom to a zippedy zenith.
An extraordinary effort prevails.
Laundered mind, disciplined thought,
ease, trip and lighten the afternoons work.
Distant audio faces play inspired tales
to the eager snug fitting ear piece
and rhythm restored reaches the days end.
Aching, dripping in emotional charge
Rest and relaxation hot tail food.
Restoration seems so far away, aches
and pointedly painful feet punish
the punisher. There is no end.
This is the day job, the new life.
A privileged man, an unsavoury journey,
punctuated with felicitous memory.
Pleased and obsessed unhealthy
circadian nature of the self spiral.
Pushing, penitent, spiritual thought
tortures, nurtures, nourishes and
contradicts one and the same mind.
Bouncing along, pragmatic and self
repairing we reach a goal.
No reward comes. Relief abounds.
Gratefully a bar is found, a drink
a man and conversation. One word
at a time. One grateful foreign word,
one nod, One bond.
Slowly, unravelled time and patterns
of the travellers mind rejuvenate.
Revealed, the heralds of the heart
emote trumpets of jubilation and the
man’s golden heart is at one with all.
A road well travelled and time stored.
He shivers the satisfaction of a job well done.