Collector of the Past

All your looking back

And all your looking down

Have given you

Your tired posture, weary eyes

And waxen skin,

Collector of the Past

/

You, heavy shadow of the mind,

What you have found,

Has it not all been lost

Or fearfully abandoned

On twisted paths you walk

To wither for a reason?

/

You pick up strangers’ hopes

And wear them like they’re clothes –

And wear them like they’re yours –

Those ragged robes

Of impossible dreams,

Outgrown by their dreamers

/

Collector of the Past

Of poisonous regrets,

Distorted histories

And of discarded loves,

You, heavy shadow of the mind,

Return to me, I beg, one minute –

/

When I betrayed the only thing

I ever loved;

/

But oh, I know,

Your quiet ‘no’ –

The echo of my fateful ‘no’ –

Is all

That I can by the past

Be given

 

Back/Forward

If I stop now,

I’ll have come here for nothing;

If I carry on,

I will be destroyed

/

And never see where ends the road

Which I was never meant to follow

Yet, I chose to, and I’m standing

By my choice;

/

Doubt and fear can halt me

For a moment only,

When, reflected in the mirror,

I see someone’s changing eyes,

/

Eyes that beg that I turn back,

While also pleading I continue

Walking on until the end,

Be it this of the road or mine;

/

It is easy to have courage

For an hour,

To speak beautifully, hope bravely

And dream of a big challenge;

/

It is harder to remain

Where and when illusions leave you:

On the side of an endless road

On a stormy day;

/

If I turn back,

I’ll have come here for nothing,

If I keep on waking,

I’ll be destroyed;

/

I look back and I look forward

Every day as I keep making

Little steps away from the chance

Of returning home

/

Because I must see the end

Of this long road

To know the reason why

It had to be walked

The Trail

The trail I follow
In melting, frail snow
Will fade tomorrow
Like a snake on starved rocks
/
Today – step off it,
Today – fall through,
Today – be damned
And tomorrow – pure
/
I’m held by nothing;
I’m tied to naught;
Countless, deep steps
Over the hungry void
/
Smell strong of sweat
Brought to boil by fear –
They mark the safe way –
Not the way for me
/
Thus, I move away from
The well-trodden trail
Into the swelling whiteout,
Which has called my name
/
I do not leave
Behind me a path:
I walk alone;
First step, second… last