My life is a painting,
A journey,
A boat trip down a winding river,
Fringed with looming houses,
With shadowy curtains
Hiding the interior.
Houses splashed with angry reds
And happy yellows
And sad, sad blues.
Homes
Of friends and enemies and teachers,
The strangers of the world who are most familiar
To my weakened memory.
I am but another passenger for this gondola to take away
On these murky waters -
The rows that lead this vessel
Deceive me into thinking that I control them,
Even though I already know
That the invisible hands of fate direct my path.
