Albion Moonlight

4 Jan

Albion is a precious being, prescient and prone to seeing
everybody’s deepest inner fears, sometime he gets too tired to take it
swallows anything to make it easier to live with all the tears,
and nervous laughter

born to love the fountain pen, ridiculed by other men
turns his anger all onto himself with deadly skill
and though he knows no true escape can come from any grain or grape,
he can’t resist the potions we distill
it’s like trying to roll a millstone up a hill
it’s like trying to roll a millstone up a hill

at twenty with his great ambition, set upon his chosen mission
writing down in stories all he saw, loving people so completely
finding girls who’d so discreetly monitor his drink ’til he’d withdraw, into his own time

for seven years he struggled there, preparing his electric chair and all of these distractions only kept him standing still, how his spirit needed motion, lost inside a mindless ocean
floating on a wilting daffodil
it’s like trying to roll a millstone up a hill
it’s like trying to roll a millstone up a hill

now the boy is nearing thirty, trying to cleanse himself of dirty
habits that don’t do the spirit good, asks himself the constant question am I going this direction because I want to or because I should and that’s hard to answer

wondering how long he’ll last,’til he just repeats his past
believing he has nothing if he doesn’t have free will
and though the weight may break his back, for now the lone insomniac
tries to resist those things that make him ill
it’s like trying to roll a millstone up a hill
it’s like trying to roll a millstone up a hill

© 1997-2010 brent david fraser, all rights reserved

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