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Dark drifting hobo

(Lars Glasø)

The power of time

 

I’m walking a darkened empty street.

I’m uneasy, something’s wrong with my feet.

My vision is blurred, my bones are aching.

It’s time for a break, a need for awakening.

 

I used to be fast, not easy to tame.

Now I’m slow and out of the game.

A weird situation and I feel shame.

And I’m wondering, who’s to blame.

 

Approaching a lamp post, a beacon bright.

Gradually, somebody comes into the light.

It’s me and my shadow, following from behind.

My silent companion, always in line.

 

But wait a minute, where did you go?

Do you hide or play tricks on me now?

Ah, there you are you sly one, but now ahead!

Get back to your place, stay behind instead.

 

The shadow doesn’t respond to my demand.

I increase my pace: he must obey my command.

I speed up but the gap between us grows.

The shadow goes to a place nobody knows.

 

Without my shadow, I’m no longer a stayer.

Homeward bound I mumble a prayer.

I whisper some words; it sounds like a rhyme.

I surrender to the power of time.

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