Solitary Flautist
A friend once told me
a most interesting tale
in a sleazy bar
over a pint of ale.
He said "On a cliff
not far away
strange things happen
or so they say.
When the sun is down
and the moon gives light
a mysterious man
embraces the night.
And from that cliff
not far away
a flute can be heard
or so they say.
And if you hear this music
so flowing and pure
you will be struck
by the strongest lure.
You will be forced
to listen to the end
no matter what
you may intend.
But the man himself"
my friend went on
"it won't be long
before he's gone.
Some say he's cursed,
some say he's insane,
but no one know
When the glacier slides,
I'm the one
. . .
lost.
Wondering where the right path is, with doubt biting. Frozen memories, icy distances.
When the world grows colder,
I'm the one
. . .
cracked.
Standing on my own, with the past craving for me. Stolen, missing.
When the snow falls,
I'm the one
. . .
drifting.
Trying my best, to make sense of it all. Wandering, wondering.
When the hail storms,
I'm the one
. . .
walking.
Holding my guard, locking my heart. Smiling, pretending.