How many old dreams of the past are dormant? How many dreams of the future are yet to be realised?
The flocculant rain falls, and the howling wind calls, as he bangs his head firm on walls.
How many days drifted in and out? How many hours in light? How many in night?
The foundations of the house shake, they ripple, bend and quake, all the while his feet flip, slip and bake.
How many lights shine out bright? How many rays cast no shadow? How often does light fade to black?
The will of a man is tested, his head ill-rested, broken undigested, wasted hope scattered and shattered.
How come comets flash and zoom by? How do meteors find their way? How often do they evade all sight?
The feel of his feet grow rough and sore, unable to walk no more, lost on a map with no detail, cast off to sea without a voyage.
How does a guide find a route? How do you define what’s in a suit? How often is a path well-trodden?
The life of Riley, the hidden Eden, the leadership skills of Christ all the parts of Paradise’s Elysium far, far out of reach.
ACTON28: AGAINST THE FLOW OF TRAFFIC 