The same old men walk the streets at the same time each day
Through the fog and birdsong, the runners in their new sweats
And the world for what they see is mainly gray, for they look inwards
They walk the streets with their heads down as if they carry the weight of their whole past
And now I have come to do the same, to walk the trails and to lose myself
For that is what it means to be a man, it seems.
And though it would seem so simple, to lose or to let go is hard
For we carry the weight of all we have not faced or allowed ourselves to feel
And for that we are at odds with ourselves, unsure what parts are really us
And which parts are just feelings, meant to pass through
Bill Pearse 
This registers! I need to find a trail to walk – been doing a mile loop through the neighborhood which works for the physical benefit – but mostly missing the connectivity you’re suggesting. (Thanks for the nudge – probably worth a short drive to get to one of the area’s nature trails.)
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Do the nature Jazz! Nothing like having the benefit of the trees and birds I think. Beats the hell out of cul-de-sacs right?!
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A sort of chiropractic for the psyche.
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The splutter of the moka pot and then, immediately, Z dragged me away before I could say that I particularly liked those last two lines. They led me to that odd thought about chiropractic for the psyche, which was all I could write under the circumstances.
The eternal jockeying between ID, Ego and Superego was also in my mind as a result of final words to one of my clients yesterday, basically about being kinder to his self…
Anyway, my thoughts now completed. A fine piece, thank you Bill.
DD
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Lovely! Here’s to thoughts completed. And thoughts for what they’re worth! Everything in its right place, eh? Prick not a wound or some such. Happy to play table tennis with you here, old sport. Thanks for being you!
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Shades of gray indeed, but now this has me thinking how there’s a whole spectrum within that one color.
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All bad films aside right?! True that, thanks Christopher…!
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Nice! A long line of gray men disappearing off into the grayness. Reminds me of a Shelley poem from college days “…my human mind, which passively Now renders and receives fast influencings…” Cheers from Milwaukee
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Yay to Shelley and college days and amen to that, lovely. Cheers from Sammamish, and word up Milwaukee!
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Love this, Bill: “. . . we are at odds with ourselves, unsure what parts are really us/ And which parts are just feelings, meant to pass through.” So resonant.
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Hi Stacey and thanks! Doing a lot of work on this as a family, to understand how to best work with feelings. Happy it resonated with you and thanks for letting me know! Hope you’re doing well.
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