He’s a policeman, a soldier, a programmer, a farmer, a murderer, a priest and a politician. He is anything that he wants to be. He’s a salesman by day and an author by night.
On this very still night, I am thinking of you. In my mind’s eye, I can almost see you sleep, yet there is a sadness that binds us together. Not so much a sadness as a melancholy. Not so much a bond as a unison, a oneness, a…it’s difficult to explain.
May the soft whisper of my heart touch yours. May the peace that I know surround you and become yours. May the miles I have traveled bring you comfort, knowing that tomorrow’s road will be filled with joy.
I can’t hear the ticking of the wall clock anymore because the years have dulled my hearing, but I know it’s still counting down the seconds left in my life. It is as tenacious as a bird on a June bug, as haunting as Edgar Allen Poe’s Raven. It’s just as well that I can’t hear the reminder that time is running out. All of my friends are getting older. Heck, even the kids are getting older.
I wish I’d found this place earlier in life. There is only one thing I would change though. I wouldn’t own any clocks. They make no sense and all they do is hurry you along.
