The long walk
Blind to death, he walks through his day.
Working for nothing, playing for nothing, loving emptiness
Seeing nothing, he invents meaning.
And begins his journey to the mirage.
His parched body hungers, and longs for loving touch.
Having never been satisfied, he doesn’t comprehend his pain.
As he marches, he gets no closer.
The monotony of his journey becomes his prison.
Inflicting pain on himself becomes his escape.
Adrenaline courses through his veins.
He only feels alive while participating in his own destruction
Scars form on his body and on his heart, and he rejoices in them.
A touch, a sip, or a bite would set him free.
One real experience and his delusions would be vanquished.
But nobody shares a touch, a sip or a bite.
Should a scarred man on a journey be interrupted?
So the pain of the journey continues indefinitely.
Until he falls into the lake of fire.
-JDR 8/16/06
