Friday, January 8, 2010
Life's but a walking shadow...
I resisted as long as I could.
It called to me.
There's no other explanation as to why I knew it was out there
- cold, snow dusted, untrod -
waiting for me.
Waiting for the press of my feet.
Straining for the sound of my crossing.
The sky so grey that no shadow would betray my passing.
"...a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more."