Spoiler
Being Edited: Special Thanks to Kamas
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Draft so far
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The Day turns to dusk,
And the dust fills the air,
As the people go to their houses,
From those houses the monsters emerge,
To haunt the night.
I have no escape,
The day has dried me
At night the frost caps my head.
I pull in, the tunes of the playerless fiddle
Backtrack to the narrative of my life:
A hungry life, unfulfilled.
And as the winds whisper in the day,
They roar in the night,
To and fro, to and fro they fly
So my mind.
Into the cathedrals,
And the holy places,
Where? Where?
Into the libraries,
A gentle breeze that turns the pages,
And moves the leaves,
A silent, mocking laugh
Where? Where?
High and low,
Here and there,
And back again to my origin,
To Zero.
Where will I find my next meal?
For the marketplace is busy,
And the people are many,
By day they crowd,
At night they gang,
Salesmen and con screaming and jeering
Trust me or trust me, friend
All selling the same dang thing.
Oh tough times, tough times!
And the fiddle plays a haunting song,
The drums that damning beat,
Somebody sing me a song,
Old and Weary,
Yet Frank and True.
No there is a Higher Calling.
