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Many years ago, I would take long walks and just absorb the essence of life that surrounded me and marvel at the beauty that God had wrought in His creation.
During that time (which was definitely a valley - not a mountaintop), I wrote a cycle of verse over the course of several months. A stream of consciousness 'journal' of sorts. Parts of it that still come to mind today depending ion the events and happenings of the day. It is presented in it's entirety and as far as I can remember this is the first time that anyone beside by beautiful bride will have read these words that were placed upon my heart so many years ago.
I'm probably not going to respond to comments so the writers of any comments will be on their own.
Thanks for taking the time to read.
LV
Thoughts along the Roadside
(musings – or wonderings while wondering)
As blue as blue my soul does mourn
For the legions of living as yet unborn;
For their parent’s crimes they will pay
with their lives. Yet one cannot say
What words and deeds will not be done
If only their lives could have begun.
June 1982
Wings – fragile, delicate – soaring to great heights
Wings – yellow, orange – the beauty of the sight
But ere a night’s chill come as it will
Can remove these from our sight
The Butterfly
July 1982
What is false and what is true?
Is yellow green and violet blue?
You are not me - am not you.
Don’t tell me what I should do.
July 1982
Sitting by the roadside, I watch the cars go by.
And in a lull in traffic I try to reason why,
What makes men want to speed along, to hurry, hurry... fly?
Is it in search of his inevitable end, to hurry, hurry... die?
July 1982
Trees upon the mountainside - a grand and glorious plan!
And then along with his tools of trade came the animal man.
No longer do the furs stand proud on mountainside and plain.
Indeed even the mountain is gone - replaced by the new four-lane.
July 1982
Visions of moonbeams and looking glass fantasy
Questions of who to do, what to go, where to see.
Cardboard reality, corpuscular eloquence.
Star-lit insanity, can it be making sense?
Wrapped in a dream-world, looking on endlessly.
They say I know what to do (do I?) we shall see.
Trapped in a future uncertain at best.
My parts been rewritten – I ad-lib the rest.
The road rushes endless. To slow down, fatality.
Visions I no longer have, instead dream-lit reality
Delusions of grandeur passing on by.
Could it be better (or is it?) to fly.
August 1982
Thoughts tangled up
in sentimentality…
Twisted with a trace
of irrationality.
November 1982 © 1982 LV Johnston |
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