You, whom ever now and again lurk these parts, perchance looking for hints about the man behind the letters, I confess that I am somewhat alone.
No thanks to the diverse nature of my friends and family, but because as it so often occurs, I feel the loneliness of these years passing by.
I have traveled, not frequently nor far
I have read, a few books not too diverse
I have loved, beautiful people inside and outside
I have carried, myself through stages, never knowing where each will take me.
I have waited, for answers that are too close for me to read, and to too far for me to journey to them.
Probably my sorrow lies in the emptiness of 38 cycles that like a spiral bring me downward to an abyss that holds no meaning for me.
To you, wanderer, I thank you for the time you have conceded your eyes.
Until we meet again.
No comments:
Post a Comment