Not sure if what I heard was real,just for a moment,I thought I heard?Never mind,it's just a memory,fluttering round my head,tossing and turning,in it's cold and old dead bed,I can hear the sheets shuffle as it tosses and turns,I close the blinds to this memory,I know,and yes,it still burns.Not sure I heard you,yes I know your there,I'm not ignoring you,
I’ve ridden on the backs of creatures of the night,I’ve bathed in the holy glow of creatures of the light,but where do i stand,where do i belong,I stand between the lines of right and wrong,buit where do I belong.I’ve played in the forest, hidden amongst the trees,I’ve laughed on the hillsides, and ran thru the streets,but where do I stand,where do I belong,I’ve floated amongst the clouds at sunrise and sundown,but where do I belong.I have saved all the memorys,I have sung all the songs,but where do I stand,where do I belong,
Consulting summer's clock,But half the hours remain.I ascertain it with a shock --I shall not look again.The second half of joyIs shorter than the first.The truth I do not dare to knowI muffle with a jest.
THERE once the wallsOf the ruined cottage stood.The periwinkle crawlsWith flowers in its hair into the wood.In flowerless hoursNever will the bank fail,With everlasting flowersOn fragments of blue plates, to tell the tale.
Growth of Man -- like Growth of Nature --Gravitates within --Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it --Bit it stir -- alone --Each -- its difficult IdealMust achieve -- Itself --Through the solitary prowessOf a Silent Life --Effort -- is the sole condition --Patience of Itself --Patience of opposing forces --And intact Belief --Looking on -- is the DepartmentOf its Audience --But Transaction -- is assistedBy no Countenance --