I keep searching, as my age increases
i search crawlingwith bloodied knees
joyous, when the golden ball of light
rises once again from the horizon

I pause and reflect, enjoying the
cold wind that blows through me
It is a nostalgic glimpse of home
the cold wind blows

There is an air of destruction
i smell it like a chorus of foulness
breaching through the terain
and landing at my feet
i observe the ever present death of
man

In the first days of my crawl
i was small
i was wet and cold and alone
i saw the light bright to my eyes
i could feel the heat of the air

20 years

and now i am the large version
of the ignorant red child
that burst from my mother
and i have given my life
to a country.
To a flag that symbolizes the strength
of 225 years.

I keep crawling till the cliff
the edge that ever moves, its dark
ahead and i cannot see where to place my worn hands and feet.
There is an edge and no mater how far i
crawl it will always be there, If
i stop it will fall beneath me
and i will cease

In the black ness there is no one
to give you pain, there is no one

Then i see the sky
and there has to be someone
billions of billions of billions
of stars floating and
life living and dieing.
And me living, and dieing

10/17/2001

Posted on 10/17/2001
Copyright © 2026 Travis G Finborg