Just ... A Bottle of Ink

An Endless Story

I climb the hills not for others

But for me to see the world.

To stand upon the highest peaks

And see the world unfurled.

The stream begins from above the land,

And rushes down the hills,

Never stopping to care nor heed

As the empty puddles it fills.

So upon the hills I could see my life

Rushing down the steep slopes.

Never stopping to think, never pausing to feel,

Just chasing the wildest hopes.

I would close my eyes and feel the wind

Whipping my hair away,

While the sun slinks behind a far-off hill

Carrying the heat of May.

What would I see in that darkness,

When all light is extinguished?

When twilight makes its presence known

And peace is established?

Would I hear the sound of the stream

Drowning the bird's song?

Or would I feel the force of the water

Above right and wrong?

Yet the path of the water, the path of the stream,

I shall never see.

Because I'm blind: my eyes are closed,

I shall never be free.

When will I open my eyes

And follow my life's progress?

When will I see beneath this flow

And untangle my life's mess?

I ride the gale and rule the breeze,

Running like a crazed mare;

And poke the snake in the eye,

Punching the growling bear.

But when I stand upon the hills

And travel back into my life,

Would I enjoy a painless journey,

Devoid of worry and strife?

If my life was an endless story,

Written in golden ink,

Would I reread its many pages,

To relive and to rethink?

When they tell me to turn away,

Away from what I love,

Would I follow their meaningless words,

Or wriggle out of their glove?

If I find myself at a crossroads,

Not knowing the one safe path,

Would I still jog ahead

Or turn back to home and hearth?

Upon the hills if I open my eyes,

Would I still be in the unknown?

Could I see my life flowing like the stream

So none can meddle but I alone?

Could I make my story the best

And journey a thousand miles?

Could I find my way through the roughest pages

And fill my path with smiles?