Late night Headrow

Feeling the end is near
The rest I had today sunk me
Towards the true light
Where none of this pain strikes
Little more waiting
And less pain forming
There is a Spanish enclave
Never once spoken of
Up upon a mountain,
I sigh to tread,
Another path
Where you is lost
And I am found.

To find the me
Hidden in the dust
Scratched below the dirt
Blown under those silicates
Between beetle battling grains
And the warp of wavering life,
Overwhelming dessicate,
But shining through!
It gleams
And suggests fault free
Inspiration.

Justice stands
Apart these
Untrue visions
Disgracing me
And all I see is myopic
Triste; begone!

In uncharted ways
Be brave and step forward
Youth in spirit
Blithe and totally
Corporal; alive!