My soul on wings
Streaking silver
Through the night.
Down forgotten paths,
And back again
To new avenues
Looking for
A resting place.
A restless search,
An endless search,
Again, a fruitless flight.
~1965~
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When one is in their twenties, one spends a great deal of time trying to figure out what kind of life one wants to live. This was certainly true for me. I had already chosen a path that didn't seem to fit, and decided to explore some alternatives. One path lead to another, and so on, and so on. "Many years have passed since those summer days among the fields of barley. See the children run as the sun goes down, as you lay in fields of gold" From "Fields of Gold"
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