This is Where I Get Off
Where exactly do you get off, thinking... you know, when you do not know, anything. You short little life has given you nothing, and that is all that you need to know, isn't it.
Sleep away my precious one, do not worry your little head about the world turning, day into night, into seasons, and millenniums, what would you know of that.
This is just a moment in time, nothing to worry about. Everything works out in the end, no matter where or what you have on your plate, it doesn't really matter now. You can see the immediate trouble that you think is important, but is it really. What would you do if you had to do it all with out someone to guide you through the darkness.
Ah, but you are alone are you not, no one to call your own. You have no mate, for your soul. You poor thing, as if this were the end of the world, but maybe it is for you. I can't say one way or the other, I have spent many a lifetime alone, thankfully.
Pacing the floor, there is nothing left to do, as the time will come when you will cease to matter, and all of this will repeat. It continues unending, no gain, no loss, just time passing, and all else is false sense of importance.
This is where I get off, friend, if I can call you that.
The bus stops, and the door opens, and I depart, leaving her behind. Just another memory, another short lived child of Eve. She may think she had lived a full life, and she will not understand the absence, it will seem like betrayal to her, but she will be better for it in the long run. In the long run, that is all there seems to be, the long run, endless and continuous, with no apparent break from the monotony. I would like to give you a better excuse, but whatever that is all it would be, an excuse. I go on, you will not, it ends here, for you.
I kick a stone down the concrete sidewalk, aimlessly wondering, and wondering, when will this age end, this age of man. Seems close to closing out, but who knows, one can never tell these things. It continues, to turn, and eventually something will strike them all dead, and I will remain, endless as the sun that burns, maybe more endless than that.
I have wondered this land, been to every corner, swam the seas, been everywhere that anyone or anything could transverse. Is there no other like me, not that I have ever seen. I don't hold hope for any such thing. I have seen the end of ages, and ages, and in the quiet times in between, I have found no other that seems to be looking for someone like me.
This age of man has been at least interesting, if not sad to watch.
I have met their gods, they are not good people, they are strange creatures that die just as easily as their charges. I had heard stories of others, though not like me, they are alike me, but I have never seen them. I don't wonder if they are not stories told about me.
From somewhere distant a horn blows, another human error, or at least nearly one I am sure, as they try to reconcile their own behavior with that of the others that they interact with.
The sounds of the city are a din, but distant, not close enough, although I am standing in the middle of the fray.
You know I can not expose anymore to you than you already know. I can not give you any picture of the future, only a glimpse into the past.
Where am I going, I do not know, it is just forming now in my mind. I pick a direction and follow it until it appears that it is right or wrong. I make corrections, depending on what is important at the moment. It really doesn't matter, what ever happens, it will happen again.
I will take a job sweeping floors, and cleaning mens bathrooms, cause I have not done that before. I will look for something do.
Night comes, and I look around me, the lights come on, it is night in the city, and they are afraid of the dark.
I will head towards the nearest club or watering hole, where I can drink and eat, mostly to seem normal. My coat is old and worn, but the leather continues to wear, even after all these years. I only wear silk, cause I can't make suits often, so I wear ones that will last forever, or so it seems. My boots are hardened leather, for the same reason, it last and it wears better than the stuff man has tried to replace it with.
In this age, money seems to be the driving force of these creatures. They trade perfectly good skills for completely useless bits of gold and paper tokens. Well at least the gold would be pretty to look at, but not much value otherwise.
(Rough Draft)
Sleep away my precious one, do not worry your little head about the world turning, day into night, into seasons, and millenniums, what would you know of that.
This is just a moment in time, nothing to worry about. Everything works out in the end, no matter where or what you have on your plate, it doesn't really matter now. You can see the immediate trouble that you think is important, but is it really. What would you do if you had to do it all with out someone to guide you through the darkness.
Ah, but you are alone are you not, no one to call your own. You have no mate, for your soul. You poor thing, as if this were the end of the world, but maybe it is for you. I can't say one way or the other, I have spent many a lifetime alone, thankfully.
Pacing the floor, there is nothing left to do, as the time will come when you will cease to matter, and all of this will repeat. It continues unending, no gain, no loss, just time passing, and all else is false sense of importance.
This is where I get off, friend, if I can call you that.
The bus stops, and the door opens, and I depart, leaving her behind. Just another memory, another short lived child of Eve. She may think she had lived a full life, and she will not understand the absence, it will seem like betrayal to her, but she will be better for it in the long run. In the long run, that is all there seems to be, the long run, endless and continuous, with no apparent break from the monotony. I would like to give you a better excuse, but whatever that is all it would be, an excuse. I go on, you will not, it ends here, for you.
I kick a stone down the concrete sidewalk, aimlessly wondering, and wondering, when will this age end, this age of man. Seems close to closing out, but who knows, one can never tell these things. It continues, to turn, and eventually something will strike them all dead, and I will remain, endless as the sun that burns, maybe more endless than that.
I have wondered this land, been to every corner, swam the seas, been everywhere that anyone or anything could transverse. Is there no other like me, not that I have ever seen. I don't hold hope for any such thing. I have seen the end of ages, and ages, and in the quiet times in between, I have found no other that seems to be looking for someone like me.
This age of man has been at least interesting, if not sad to watch.
I have met their gods, they are not good people, they are strange creatures that die just as easily as their charges. I had heard stories of others, though not like me, they are alike me, but I have never seen them. I don't wonder if they are not stories told about me.
From somewhere distant a horn blows, another human error, or at least nearly one I am sure, as they try to reconcile their own behavior with that of the others that they interact with.
The sounds of the city are a din, but distant, not close enough, although I am standing in the middle of the fray.
You know I can not expose anymore to you than you already know. I can not give you any picture of the future, only a glimpse into the past.
Where am I going, I do not know, it is just forming now in my mind. I pick a direction and follow it until it appears that it is right or wrong. I make corrections, depending on what is important at the moment. It really doesn't matter, what ever happens, it will happen again.
I will take a job sweeping floors, and cleaning mens bathrooms, cause I have not done that before. I will look for something do.
Night comes, and I look around me, the lights come on, it is night in the city, and they are afraid of the dark.
I will head towards the nearest club or watering hole, where I can drink and eat, mostly to seem normal. My coat is old and worn, but the leather continues to wear, even after all these years. I only wear silk, cause I can't make suits often, so I wear ones that will last forever, or so it seems. My boots are hardened leather, for the same reason, it last and it wears better than the stuff man has tried to replace it with.
In this age, money seems to be the driving force of these creatures. They trade perfectly good skills for completely useless bits of gold and paper tokens. Well at least the gold would be pretty to look at, but not much value otherwise.
(Rough Draft)
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