Fragments Of A Wandering Son

I am going to go ahead and warn you that the below is going to be very ambiguous for most and altogether just plain weird for others. I wrote the following not as a means for clarification, but as a means for expression. It had to come out. Besides I really like it when people speak in an esoteric language. The below is an attempt at giving some sense of form to my phase in life. It is also very fragmented which I believe is another parallel with my current frame of mind. My best advice is to read it slow. Not as information but as an underlying truth.


I came to my senses about the time the true hunger pangs began. Pangs I didn't know it was possible to feel. Lying face forward in the muck having called myself a god in this arena of pigs.

It seems I had so much to recollect covered in mud. The thought of loss, the memory of youth, the gnaw of a blank stomach makes one reel in the darkness. And the topsy turvy of the paths you once trusted and claimed as real as the day, fall from under your feet and you stumble down the stony traces of impatience and insecurity.

All my thoughts were attached to some uncertainty. My core beliefs clung hands with their opposing doubts. I walked across the threshold of my house into the wilderness seeking the answers to the riddles I kept hearing.

I passed a barren field in my journey for absolute love and freedom. I had nothing to confine me. The sky was high, the horizon was far, and my shadow was long; Only the sounds of my own echoing footsteps told me I was there. My plugged ears longing to hear the voice that I was deaf to. Anger and scorn burned brightly and I walked on.

Yes, I played the part of a fatherless cowboy chasing the wind, collecting the burs, in many a scene. I never could get the timing just right, but I was a real fighter. I kicked against the pain and scoffed at the yoke where many were too weak to overthrow.

Love and fear, we all prance through trails with these words slung about our clothing. I tied one to my belt; I hid the other up my sleeve. And now I've lain behind these fences seeking to protect my heart from the reckless attack it wages against itself.

All the while, this accusative pig farmer, he's a real cruel tyrant, kicking me in the head whenever I find the strength to stand up.

I have become both the betrayer and the betrayed in these circumstances. Every remedy runs through me like water in my attempt to ease my fall as I lie among the dirt, the stench, and the hooves. How is it that everything seemed to point to the deliberate confidence of man and now everything crumbles back into unformed clay? I look into the vibrant breathings of nature and I see meaning. I always have and I always will.


I raise my eyes to the hills just over those forest tops, past the sulphuric fog, through the tremelous mists that creep about the sky, across the rivers of rupture and beyond these segregated sands that fills my eyes, there lies my home...where my Father walks, his mere shadow casting light upon those beckoning doorsteps.