Sitting here, alone on this stage for all the world to see. A financial catscan – a process loud and confining – reveals a man confused by failure.

A caravan of Jokers pass me by as I am noosed up and put on a stool soon to be pushed away, sending me into the unknown exile forever.

The caravan stops and they all laugh pointing at this fellow with the false jesters hat.

What did I do that I have found failure so easily and success a futile destination?

Should I have stayed home when the house was collapsing? If I’d have known it would sustain the breakage and the storms, I would have hung on.

What did I know?

How could I know?

The old man warned me but I thought I knew better…

Oh if I had the chance to do it all again, would I change it all?

There’s a crossroad on the highway, chain gangs moaning in tunes I now know and I hum along.

I kick away the pebbles which try and obstruct the path towards a destination that seemed so close but remains elusive. The pebbles have graduated into stones, then rocks and now boulders which obstruct my passage.  

I hear footsteps behind me, feet pounding the dirt and sounds of slipping and sliding. I won’t turn around, I can’t turn around for fear they might be closer than they seem.

Dreams come easily for me – it’s the living that can be hard. I need to run, I need to run, I need to run…

See the river rushing by, close your eyes and listen to the words that jump into your mind –  just as the fish jump out of the rolling river as they swim against the tide.

Through these eyes I am still a young man – though my bones ache and my head spins – all I see comes to be as if I were still a kid. Hail falls down and it burns to the touch. I search for shelter in a deserted square – only the organ grinder is safe so I sit beside him as he plays a tune – turning and turning the handle – all people smile as the sun begins to shine and the hail stops falling.

Lady in a white dress walks towards me, she is smiling, extends her hand to me and lifts me up with a slight pull. All it takes sometimes is a smile and a nudge in the right direction.

“Where were you all this time?”

“Been chasing you for some time – didn’t you hear me?”

Sitting on this chair overlooking the river that was once whispering words I could not understand. I am able to hear them now, I am able to understand.

The voices and the whispers we sometimes hear are the messages being sent to us from another time and place…

Just as the caravan of jokers point and laugh simply to make themselves smile. They are lost and can only laugh as they hold back the tears they need to cry.

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