Where we were going?

Where is it,
the place we know we don't fit?

Just go with it.
There are so many different fits.

The temples torn.
I'm moving towards something else.

Every time,
its always so far away.
There's no time,
so you ought to stay in place.
Now whats erased?

Where were we going,
across the desert,
over each others tongues,
begging for manna with them?

I ought to go,
and don't you call.
I am quicksand,
and you will fall.

There is quicksand inside us all.

Reviews

[roarke]

This is an enthralling piece. Save it. I think there are many answers to the questions this piece poses, directly and in between the lines that you may be able to define later in your journey and then...... you'll see you've really gone someplace at last.

[dukovan]

good to hear from you. I'll be sure to do that.

hell of an insight btw.

[Chris]

I like the last line... it echoes well when read aloud.

One question... will you KNOW what this one is about in ten years?

[dukovan]

Time will tell I suppose.

[dukovan]

I'm not sure if I even KNOW what its about right now.

[Chris]

Chuckling here...