There is Room

There is Room

  Along the lonely road I met an old man who sang a soft melodic song that spoke to me in so many ways, his gnarled fingers chording an old guitar that seemed to know so exactly, so enchantingly, and so beautifully where his sad and lonely words were going.

  I stood and listened until his song ended, mesmerized by the sounds and the words. My tears were his tears, his tears mine, and his song was my song, words, music, and all.

  When I awoke the tears still flowed down my cheeks, the words and music of the song would lay upon me in the twilight of my days.

*

There is Room

There is room for you here – it’s not so crowded, now that night is over and the demon sleeps in his coffin of forgetfulness…

There is room beside me, though the heat in my body has dwelled for a while in the dampness of the past heroic epic of chance…

There is room for you here by this still infernal longing of my soul that speaks to me of a thousand things I could have done…

There is room beside the silent tempest that yet rages within the bounds my mind can reach in too much absurdity…

There is room here in the twilight of a life spent recklessly and with oft a hope some willing star would enter its pitiable tenderness…

There is room here near the weariness from joys sought, found, and lost through carelessness of one final salute to Bacchus…

There is room here among the decay of confusion and doubt, among the abandoned hearts of love’s labor lost, sought and found…

Come join me – read my tales, hear my soul’s somber chorus, hear a fool awaking to a yawning maw of darkness and despair…

There is room…

*

Billy Ray Chitwood – November 12, 2018

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Author: Website: http://brchitwood.com - B R Chitwood - My Mission: Writing to Discover Me

I'm a young man in an old man's body, trying to catch up to myself, trying to find pieces of me I left back in a disconnected youth and the early years of manhood. I'm a stereotype of many in my generation who can play the 'blame game', yell 'foul', and 'let's start over'. But, we are what we are, the sum of all the scary kid-emotions we experienced, the gin mills and piano bars that became our sandboxes of pleasure - lotus eaters of the best (or, worst) kind, the love affairs that did not quite settle us down, the sad poetry and songs written in bars and motels along the way... A Dreamer! A Wanderlust! The world needs such fools as we to write our books, our poetry, our songs, to offset the madness that plagues the soul. I've written fourteen books, over three hundred blog posts, in search of those pieces left somewhere in many parts of the globe. You can preview my books on the next page. There's even a Blog page...all my posts are not showing on this recently created blog page, but, if you want to read more, go to my official blog site and check out the archives: http://www.thefinalcurtain1 Writing for me is therapy for the soul. Website: https://billyraychitwood.com

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