Simon's sound still echoes in my temples:
bound is where I have to be,
sitting in a station by a juncture in my mind,
galaxies in semi detachment.
could be scary, restrictive, isolating,
from worlds I knew so well,
I'm me, always ready for the challenge,
pauses briefly tugging on my reins.
have to deal with domestic inconvenience,
my space so I can get around,
others it makes for strange surroundings,
it makes me feel enabled and empowered.
can't drive anymore so I need to find new transportation,
ways to travel and new places to go,
going to boldly go to places where I've never been before,
e-lationships with other driven people.
No longer driven by libido's compulsions
bursting to tap the creative muse,
remain a player in life's sweet game,
delights from the seven day weekend.
leave behind a different world with different issues,
people rush to battle thieves of time,
they all dance, to the rhythms, to their personal pipers
at windmills with no obvious purpose.
so to bed with the future stretched before me,
dreams of past and present times,
go ahead to greet a bright tomorrow,
you, adieu, auf weidersen, goodnight!
© Stefan Lewis-Fish
(15 September 1999)