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Bark — Ride
Published: 2014-11-15 09:47:39 +0000 UTC; Views: 363; Favourites: 10; Downloads: 0
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Description
Chopping sounds, scraping sounds, water (?) drippingWindshield wipers flap in the dark rain, driving blind
Brother, where you bound? I don’t know, brother
Somewhere in the endless night there must be a destination
Radio static, radio silence, flap, flap, flapping wipers
Owls and nightbirds’ calls, cogs grinding, soft echoes
Headlights waver, failing in this blacker-than-black
Brake pads scraping, not long to go before they’re gone
Somewhere ahead there must be a sign, a neon arrow
Pointing the way to whatever lies ahead in this dream
Faint carnival sounds, laughter, more scraping and grinding
Radio pops on, locomotive breath resounds
Hands on steering wheel relax, eyes close
Brother, where you bound? Nowhere, brother
It’s the ride that counts, not the destination
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Comments: 14
i understand your thoughts, Ron,
but for me it's always been about
the destination.
on the road, i've always focused
on leaving no unpleasant ripples...
smooth efficiency!
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So very true. People can be so focused on the destination they forget to enjoy the journey itself
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No matter how many miles there are to go, the ride is ALways what counts, even if you're still a toddler.
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This morning, just a few minutes ago, in fact, while reading about Georg R.R. Martin, I was somehow reminded of how I live and a song from the 1960's called 'Live For Today'. la la la la la la, repeat, Live for today. I don't recall the band's name, but I loved it at the time, and it seems I've taken it as a theme and anthem. No insurance, no preparing for the future, living close to the edge of disaster and financial ruin. Frank Lloyd Wright, one of my heroes, lived that way, too. Caring nothing for conventional "wisdom", exhausting his money in collecting Japanese art which he subsequently had to sell off or give to creditors. The man LIVED. I have done less well than he, but much better than many. It may have always been my inclination since I was a child, and I remain a child.
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I always wanted to live that way, but kept failing. I did once leave everything behind and hit the road thumbing. I lived for three months that way (my first trip to Florida, in fact.) But I got married, had a family, yadayadayada.
My youngest son however, lived life completely on his own terms. A wandering poet riding the rails, refusing to conform to anyone's expectations but his own. He left behind a lot of people who loved him. (You know the quote ((paraphrasing)) "the measure of a man is not how much he loved, but how much he was loved.")
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I had no children, and never a long-term companion. I am alone, essentially with no relatives left of my generation and almost no one who even remembers me since my parents and I moved far from our relatives 55 years ago. Such is the price of freedom. Except for my parents, friends from Florida are the only ones who ever meant much. Those may remember, and even those will likely die before long. And yet somehow, I still enjoy.
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Yeah, I've distanced myself physically and psychologically from friends and family. I'm happy that I have books to leave behind, even if few people read them. It's something, anyway.
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