he hit the ground runnin'. and runnin' and runnin' and runnin' 'cause after the leap he had taken there weren't nothin' else to do but and so he did. a leap all leg kick and arms all a flail fallin' and fallin' faster aproachin' a ground he was dead set on meetin' and he coulda sworn dead. but with a stop catch look quick he was there. ground. a look up. and before he coulda even known the last moments he was already legs a flyin' runnin' faster and faster across the vast nothin'ness a'fore. sand dusty flyin' him kickin' it up and flyin' fast on the two feet god gave 'em headin' towards what would most likely be another edge a cliff beggin' out for a leap over for nothin' but another fall.
it all started when he had left the homestead flyin' less fast than his current incarnation but flyin' some the same. leavin' behind him a burnt and broken land ravaged by time and all hands of man none very diff'ernt his own. born on a cold summer evenin' in the middle of which they was the first snowfall ever seen to eyes a them parts since old man lacey had been but no more 'n a sprout - and they ain't called him old man lacey for nothin'. so it only stood to reasonin' that our boy would be somethin' more than just some other a thing growin' old in those parts. so he left carryin' nothin' but a plug a tobacco, two pints a whiskey, and with a last minute thinkin' on after, the shirt on his back.
he slowed his runnin' just enough to catch sight or maybe perhaps only glimpse of what the olduns used to travel far to see. a some of a thing risin' up and out of the landscape meant to remind of the salvation of all mankind that most had long since forgot and found they didn't need in the first damn place. he sped back to speedin' but still thinkin' on a childhood all his own sanctified and hymn filled.
come home, come home,
you who are weary, come home
earnestly, tenderly, yes he is calling
calling, o sinner, come home.
he kept to runnin' knowin' that home weren't nothin' but a place to which he weren't never gonna make.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment