bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Monday 19th February 2007.

Spring flowers have pushed up snipping and snapping,at the closed doors of the mind.This mind tucked in comfort during the winter months,became lost in the furled colours,sheltering in the Forlorn Hope regiment,the front rank with age has pondered much, looking into the gloom with covered hands has not always released the answer the mind wished for.
This mind is complex,though wishes it was not so true all the time,the cocking of the musket takes time,maybe to much time the hammer if released sooner might have fed the fog the means to move on but i doubt it.Winter is winter and the longer i stand in the front rank the winters become more fog bound as the years pass.This war, this battle is never ending,no escape for the front rank,the tighter one pulls the cocked musket the tighter one straps up the sack of musket balls the more i search down the valley for the answer why i.
This does not mean i am tired of the forlorn regiment i just wonder why i find myself travelling with such company during the winter months,perhaps i will never know as i begin to pack my knapsack and follow the spring flowers.

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