Perhaps, I should count myself lucky to have a tenure riddled with…
‘the wisdom to know the difference.’ My battles were mine to own. In each and every instance. I removed my tomorrow place. And, the everyday…of its own importance.
There were fewer paths to strife… But still, the walks, holding its hands, are still nearby. Dear prudence has taught…not all journeys are fair.
The gift of pain is benign. In these massive woods of recovery, It is a simple route to getting lost. A struggle and stumble each day to embellish with forgetfulness. So often times, an err to my judgment. … No matter, I must still go my own way…If only for today
Sunset is an angel weeping Holding out a bloody sword No matter how I squint I cannot Make out what it’s pointing toward Sometimes you feel like you’ve lived too long Days drip slowly on the page You catch yourself Pacing the cage
I’ve proven who I am so many times The magnetic strip’s worn thin And each time I was someone else And every one was taken in Hours chatter in high places Stir up eddies in the dust of rage Set me to pacing the cage
I never knew what you all wanted So I gave you everything All that I could pillage All the spells that I could sing It’s as if the thing were written In the constitution of the age Sooner or later you’ll wind up Pacing the cage
Sometimes the best map will not guide you You can’t see what’s round the bend Sometimes the road leads through dark places Sometimes the darkness is your friend Today these eyes scan bleached-out land For the coming of the outbound stage Pacing the cage –B. Cockburn