The Way

I'm back at my beginnings,

but I miss the way I missed you.

Back at my carefree lifestyle,

without a goddess to worship.

I'm back to where I started.

Now I'm running through the garden,

rumbling through waters,

scribbling pieces of nonsense about these mortals.

A bit in here, a bit in there.

The process of discovery must be at first murky.

At first there is a sense of liking.

And after that, you let things occur.

And then you jump at the crevice,

crack it open and stir

until the inside with the outside blur.

Yeah, I know. Too much poetry.

I'm usually blunt and direct.

So pardon my need to sometimes flamboyantly brag.

I don't miss her. I miss the way.

So much so that I think sometimes

that it was not her that I loved, but the way.

Even though sometimes my head becomes a mess,

I crave the way. I crave the feel.

Strange to me because I never craved nor cigars, nor money or beer.

The way will reappear in different form, a different mood.

Or maybe it will come as another storm.

I know just as much as you about how the way works,

how it behaves when it stays, and why it disappears into the blue.

I had the way. I had the feel.

And I keep looking around,

always forgetting that the way

is within me and there is no stop and go for the feel.
So pardon me for too much poetry.

I'm usually bold and direct,

but sometimes, my friends, I can't.



Written, Voiced and Edited by Besart Cani