He wore tarnish proudly. <br />Not like a badge, <br />More like one of those enigmatic rune tattoos <br />that littered his skin like checkmarks on a bad students paper. <br />You know the type... <br />the piercings, the ink, the punk-red shock of 'hair without boundaries' <br /> <br />He had meticulously cataloged his every indiscretion, <br />I found myself leaping to his defense, <br />but he would have none of that. <br />'It's who I am. It's what I've done.' <br /> <br />Just another River Boy, <br />A tourist in the dream scape of reality. <br />He wandered onto the ruins of the unknown.. <br />As his mind sought out the universe in <br />the starry skies above. <br /> <br />He understood the signs <br />that others are still trying to decipher. <br />Symbols written in stone with blood, <br />and messages chiseled on the soul by the wind. <br /> <br />They say that you can 'catch' a glimpse, <br />But this is no more possible <br />Than folding smoke in your fingers. <br /> <br />The firmer your grip, the less you will hold <br /> <br />May you find a newer, <br />gentler path among the stars. <br />And may it be your trumpet <br />To herald the end.<br /><br />Lynne FincherSpringarden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/glimpse-21/
