No Simple Highway

Today I had the pleasure of spending time with my running buddies, Jerry and Robert and Mickey. We spent a good bit of time together running 15-miles.

I miss these traveling companions. Jerry discussed the end of summer and the coming winter months. He clearly suffers from seasonal affective disorder, as evidenced by his following declaration:

"When the last bolt of sunshine hits the mountain
And the stars seem to splatter in the sky
When the moon splits the south west horizon
And scream of an eagle on the fly
I will walk alone by the black muddy river

And listen to the ripples as they moan
I will walk alone by the black muddy river
Sing me a song of my own"

Jerry might need some therapy in January.

Robert lamented his cocaine-addicted friend, Casey Jones.

Mickey suggested that Casey might just be A Friend of the Devil.

Maybe so, I thought.

Normally Monday is a day of rest for me, but Jerry goaded me when he shouted something about a Fire on the Mountain, and then he yelled the following in my direction: "Long distance runner, why you standing there for? Get up, get up...get out of that door!"

He really Got My Mojo Going.

Ok guys. I am sorry I neglected you. I know you missed me. I missed you too. I Feel Like Stranger. Can we discuss life a bit?

And so it was sometime during mile 15 that Jerry and Robert and Mickey spoke well to me about life's longest run:

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine.
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music?
Would you hold it near, as it were your own?
It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken

Perhaps they're better left unsung
I don't know, don't really care
Let there be songs to fill the air

Ripple in still water

When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow
Reach out your hand if your cup be empty
If your cup is full may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of man
There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go, no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone

Ripple in still water

When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow
You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall, you fall alone
If you should stand, then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way, I would take you home