mephausto

a final night on the range and time is passing me by quicker than i'd like it to, the clouds speeding past as the words refuse to come at the agreed upon pace, my answers overrun the questions because i cannot keep up, i cannot understand this disfunction from synapse to vocal chord, i take off running to find the treadmill ground fighting me each step, keeping me just behind the sunrise and just before the sunset, flailing and falling as the sand blinds me, the thorns bind me, and the horizon beckons me on, on, on to glory, on to sucess, on to riches of the spirit i could only imagine in my greatest of heroic fantasies, but yet i find myself tangled in barbed wire, eyes to the sky saying "what am i doing, lord, what am i doing here in your service, what am i doing with all that you'll ask of me when i'll only stay in hell?"

the silence crushes me and i give way to slumber