Love guides the forlorn.

Off in the distance, I see the orange glow of light. I am not alone. There is a man with a
candle walking in the caverns of my brain. He is looking for the seam, the tiny crack where
normal behavior seemed to have separated from the normal track. He said he started
looking in 1998  and is working his way back to 1941. Somewhere in the dim light there is
a clue to the separation from the mother ship. There are some scars and some brilliant
points, but no clues to the drift to the left.
Some where in this vast array of thoughts are the clues to my state of being. Pieces to the
puzzle that will give clues to the world of my sanity. In the meantime I will assume that I
am sane, but with a strange point of view.
Some where along the line, societies point of view became flawed. The worms had escaped
and there was no way to put them back into there proper place.
I had no dreams of Che, I was just lost and looking for the truth. There is no valiant
warrior deep rooted in a cause, I was lost, I am just looking for the truth. There are no
deep roots planted firmly in the ground, I am a lost wandering child, just looking for the
truth. I had no clue of the world surrounding me. I had and saw the answers, but had no clue as
to how these fit into our puzzle of life.
There is a place in time where knowledge falls in line with emotions.
Words and emotions line up and travel to my mind simultaneously.
With the knowledge of each new word the world becomes clear.
Life falls in place, a place as simple as that.

***
Somewhere between standing in the woods without a stitch
and driving thru the streets of an industrial habitat, I stand.
Frowned on by some and admired by others.
Where I stand is not important, to be seen by others is important to me.
My ego demands some acknowledgement otherwise the soft wet sand that I am standing in will sink.
I think that we all stand in the wet sand at some point in our lives.
To see and to see them is important, never forgetting the paths that we have walked.
Saying hello to the new found day and its passengers.
Love guides the forlorn.
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