Maybe it didn’t make sense on the battlefield
Maybe it didn’t make sense leaving Utah for gold
It may not have been the purpose-driven-life of a religion
But a ridden-hard-life that surrendered its soul
Too run down to make sense, aimless
It was a threat back then
It was a force called youth
Calling high and loud “willful,” “determined,” and sometimes vindicated
Made many joyous and many jealous of that youthful stole
A journey with so many directions we can only go down once
But a purpose driven life doesn’t speak of failure
Fuels a marionette dancing out of control
Maybe it was left somewhere you don’t remember
Maybe it was a lesson but gawd lessons are so wrong
Maybe it’s still a spiritual journey that hasn’t yet ended
Moving on makes sense, aimless
I can believe it may still happen, but so can death
I can see where it may be a problem
Insanity hates the bench
It never did seem right then…
You think of the winds foiling towards nothing
All fearless, reckless
A hound on the scent confused, beset
A little more sugar for all those gawd awful lemons
It was a threat cause it was all potential then
Maybe they’re still out there holding a place for you
Maybe a place of redemption a Bermuda Triangle twist
It may be that getting on with one’s life
Really has no point to it
And if you get there it’s not desire nor intent
It just is, aimless

clburdett, 2016


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