Because I always feel like running
Not away, because there is no such place
Because, if there was I would have found it by now
Because it's easier to run,
Easier than staying and finding out you're the only one...who didn't run
Because the thing I fear cannot be escaped, eluded, avoided,
hidden from, protected from, gotten away from,
Not without showing the fear as I see it now.
wrong again. the end is not nigh not nigh not nigh. So, rest yer worried head and bury those fears in yer palpi soul for another wee while. But the end of what? the world... that's what the old guys with the placards in 70's Glasgow used to mean when I was only wee. Thats what I think anyway! Something to do with sinning and punishment and all that codswallop. I don't know for sure really.
. An end, not of life. not of living... the end is of the world -- as perceived in my mind. and that's just a lot of shite. it isn't a wonderful thing or an episode to be cherished. it's a simple fight for survival with all sorts of demon monsters attempting to thwart you at every opportunity. These monsters are almost invariably human monsters. created not by mothers, not by families. These fuckers are formed by society and they are evil on this earth. they will do you. they will smash you and scare you. they will always be there to wield their power and the more you conform the more you become part of the monster. don't conform and you must keep on running because they won't let you be. Not as you are. not as independent, not as free, not as wonderful or kind. the culture insists on fear, blame and greed.
one day I had a fledgling wren in the hood of my top. I put my top on and a wee tiny baby wren was suddenly part of my clothing. He didn't seem too keen on leaving but I urged him/her on, and off it went into the trees where a mummy wren was soon in attendance. That wren was very small.
I worked for a man this summer who found a young pigeon in his shoe when he was getting ready to go out in the morning. The man was keen on nature. But still, wasn't very pleased at the pigeon chick because it had shat in his shoe a lot and it was really stinky he said.
He had a rib of a whale in his front garden. He'd found this on a beach when he'd lived on the Orkney Isles. He now has a bird feeder that feeds more sparrows than I've seen for years. Such a lot of sparrows.
And the everyday living goes on and on in this cold dark winter punishing me, for what crimes I have no idea. The people here seem to think it's ok. It's just another winter... but. It's bleak. All this driechness. And the sun. The sun can hardly be bothered to raise itself. It gets as high as the roofs of the houses and shoots across westward casting chimney stack shadows onto the cold damp streets. One minute I'm blinded by the low lying sun next minute it's gone and the winter darkness is the blinding agent.
What do I want?... What do you care? I'm at a junction. Crossroad. intersection. waiting for the time to help me make up my mind. And where is it next.... it's away I suppose, because its never here. Always somewhere else. The place I'm at is always not the place to be.
I am a
Little Known Man. is my latest offering to you and, to the gods that so often misguide me.
Now run along and take with you any ideas you might posses about where I am going to be soon.
Enjoy the present
love and everything good
..ed
