Sometimes I Freeze

Here we stand, at the end of the time we’ve known.

At the top of the mountain, I can barely breathe

as we prepare to descend to the valley below.

Shrouded in mist, the invisible future could be jagged rocks or level heath.

We’ll find our way somehow, pushed along by the conveyor belt of time.

Hold on to me, and I’ll hold on to the rope dangling from heaven’s gate.

Rahab’s cord, that thin red cord, will save us from those hounds of mine.

Take these broken wings, and fan the flame to bring us home, and to our fate.

Kyrie eleison, or the will-o’-the-wisp will guide our broken way.

Here we stand, do we feel dread? Have we let our plans fall dead?

None can resurrect the past, and fortunetellers lie, but hey,

regret and fantasies fuel the ideas boiling in my head.

Can I pick up my luggage and move into my future years?

Will I find a welcoming home for my age,

and fertile ground for my endeavors?

Can I pitch camp for a while, or must I continue my endless pilgrimage?

It’s not like I have a choice. Can we accept the inevitable? We hang off the edge, clawing and trying to make this year last a second longer. We were born on this road, spat out of this machine to the cold wild wonder of the limitless void.

Here we go, to meet the monster, here we go, steadfast and fickle.

Here we go again, to fall inexorably into The Cog’s cold grind.

Off we march, arm in stranger’s arm, to join the wheat beneath the Reaper’s sickle.

Slow down lemmings! Hold nothing tight. Some must go before us, some will stay behind.

There’s a way to do this thing called life, and everyone has their theory

about how to walk the minefield, and limit your disaster.

Build what you can, and leave it behind, with count’nance somber and cheery.

Take your best shot and run with it, or take a hint from the Master.