I may be where there is nowhere to go.
The only thingnear is this foreign atmosphere.
Crawling upwards to the ruins of youth
I shed two salt-free tears.
Moving forward, backward, like rocking a child.
But the child is a song,
The skin worn and cold.
Am I to ride this train forever?
Must I follow the golden light?
Let me find my maker and set things right.
Haze above me and haze below.
I may be where there is nowhere to go.
~
Russian dolls cry out at dawn
For they, too, have been abandoned.
Leaning over the rail as far as I may go,
I see a reflection of the horizon.
No stopping now, movement must continue.
The song will never end inside my head.
Crazed, I curl up in my bed and dream.
I let the haze carry me where it will.
No past, no future, the present ever-changing,
I seek what I cannot know.
Haze above me and haze below.
I may be where there is nowhere to go.
