We find ourselves in this desert, and it is night. In my opinion, this is a melancholy landscape.
My friend, sometimes I blather on. Frankly, at those times, the thing itself - whatever that means - eluded me, as wonderfully as when the doe, outwits the wolf.
My fire is yours. I have the whole night my friend.
Sit the sand, and speak truly. There are no gods at my fire, for I never allow it. I am heading, no where in particular. Nor am I quite skilled in any trade.
I have no belligerent inclination, power may sometimes amuse me, but I have no yearning for it.
I am but an earnest listener.
My childhood was years ago. I know some sadness. I travel the deserts. I had a hound once. He was swift and watchful.
I made love to a beautiful woman, some nights ago. I paid her for her time. And we made love. I wanted to kiss her, but made no such advance.
I asked her if she cared to stay the night. The fire was her's, and I would sleep apart from her. She declined, but not before she inquired.
Where did I come from, she wanted to know. And asked after my name, which I spoke for her.
I am ridiculed by some I have met in the desert. They satirize my hawk contorting. I confessed, as a younger man, to burning down a fruit stand. Though I had done no such thing, and was acquitted on account of some technicality.
Tell me something,
My friend, sometimes I blather on. Frankly, at those times, the thing itself - whatever that means - eluded me, as wonderfully as when the doe, outwits the wolf.
My fire is yours. I have the whole night my friend.
Sit the sand, and speak truly. There are no gods at my fire, for I never allow it. I am heading, no where in particular. Nor am I quite skilled in any trade.
I have no belligerent inclination, power may sometimes amuse me, but I have no yearning for it.
I am but an earnest listener.
My childhood was years ago. I know some sadness. I travel the deserts. I had a hound once. He was swift and watchful.
I made love to a beautiful woman, some nights ago. I paid her for her time. And we made love. I wanted to kiss her, but made no such advance.
I asked her if she cared to stay the night. The fire was her's, and I would sleep apart from her. She declined, but not before she inquired.
Where did I come from, she wanted to know. And asked after my name, which I spoke for her.
I am ridiculed by some I have met in the desert. They satirize my hawk contorting. I confessed, as a younger man, to burning down a fruit stand. Though I had done no such thing, and was acquitted on account of some technicality.
