Breadcrumbs

These words 

Stream of consciousness soup really

Rarely chosen with care

Falling on thirsty ground

A lost soul trying to find

"the great forgotten language" *

For

"the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth." *

Uh-huh, I see you pointing 

To the "lost lane-end into heaven" *

And the shepherd who led you there

So--I tried to be a sheep--to babble things I didn't know

I found salving comfort in believing I was right

Protected

And loved--no matter what

But "the great forgotten language"

Of the forever lost and alone

Drew me again to a place I never left

Where I knew before I nestled in her womb

The "quiet desperation" **

That haunts us all (according to Thoreau) **

So, yeah--these words

I'll keep putting them down in the lost and found

Because somebody might need to know who I am

I do

These breadcrumbs to the deep dark core of my existence

(Not to find me out but to find me in)

No one has to read them

They're uncomfortable and nearly unconscionable

Yet I can't not write them down

Like Thomas Wolfe wrote Look Homeward Angel

Then You Can't go Home Again

(LOL)

They might not lead to where I want to go

Or anywhere at all 

As T.S. Eliot said:

"We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time." ***

So, yeah, that's all I want

Makes me feel less lost and alone

So putt'n deez words down Imma gonna keep

(Duh--)

*     From Look Homeward, Angel  by Thomas Wolfe

**   From Walden by Henry David Thoreau

*** From Little Gidding by T. S. Eliot