There is another within me.
He is a wild man,
Laughing and cavorting around in merriment;
Brothers we are
This man that lives in me is a wise man,
Yet I rarely hear him speak
There are words that do not reach these aging ears.
There are whisperings that only the spirit can hear,
Kept from my knowledge,
Yet subtly made known as the two schemers exchange secrets;
A fallen angel
Whose mind was made without limitations-
For he came from a place without confines,
But here he risks losing himself,
For the mind must travel a long way to return from where it began.
He leaves at first light
And returns late at night
And whispers his wild tales
So that I cannot sleep from the exhilaration of it
Sometimes he is gone for a long time
And I fear he will not return,
But he always does
And his stories restore strength to my weary limbs.
For I am old,
But I will lean against his shoulder,
And he will feed my his stories,
And my eyes will twinkle with wonderment
As I listen in the twilight.
