Its strange to think so much of my life, my goals and aspirations over the past three or four years really come down to what I do now in the next fortnight. This is arrival, and beginning. Its something I want to do. But it wont define me. For this, my last confession, I want to leave you with a poem. I wrote this in 2011. The first line absolutely was me thinking about the Nullarbor. So Im closing this circuit now. Again like the ride, so much of my life went into writing this, so much of fed back into my identity as well. Looking for meaning, making things matter. Even if they dont and never will to anyone else. You were here. Enjoy- SOMETHING OF VALUE If you are going to be lonely find the biggest sky you can as far from home as possible to do it under lift the weight off old skylines finding new light looking up lose old aching gravity overarching star-ful as the pinpricks wink you across this impossible distance where a couch cant contain you let that distance stretch you -out so much further than spread eagle across beds throw yourself into it scatter life down highways like youre a string of wreckage let the hurt spur you on paving the lines on your face with a road maps direction and own your alone if lonely hunts you amongst people in places already known then run, sucker, run hide inside a pocket of velocity an envelope of anonymity a blanket of trajectory jumping the void left by burnt bridges across the still waters running too deep for shallow swimmers to have followed you insist that loneliness will work for its prey if you are going to be lonely be strange stubborn as leg cramps let your skin carpet your flaws be so funny that your punch lines ...can leave black eyes be so far gone that your trail will itself be a tale bread-crumbed to become the stuff nourishing a legend if all your photos of you are taken arms length then reach further than you ever believed you could and picture yourself as beautiful and in reaching around to sunscreen your own back develop a new flexibility plans remain in your hands no splitting this difference where decisions comes from within that same sunscreen grease will suddenly smell like freedom and release if caught in a conversational drought then find your minds own inner dialogue and talk yourself up a storm get your years covered in mud get them buckled and blistered warped from water-log snow stained with sand grains stuck in them til you stink of a long-storys old nostalgia if you are going to be lonely at all do it all out there where not a single friendly-fire word-exchange can steal your flame pursue and imbue illuminate the solitude with something of value a suffering brilliance finding gains hidden in the pain on nights alone that need no account lose count and let go of letting go and hold on to those nights silence feel it congeal around you so thick and hard you can actually grab hold of it climb the silence use it as a boost-up to get over the walls that followed behind you into every new situation and up on that silent line look out on a horizon curving so back far that the straight and the lame will never catch you again under the biggest sky you can find and even if standing there all alone one hell of a view, if only (just for you). ...andd now watch fat-Randall on YouTube. Ill talk with you soon. Be good. Be better than that. Love to you all. Monday, December 8th, 2014 - - -
Posted on: Mon, 08 Dec 2014 12:41:28 +0000
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