What is this place most unfamiliar?
These four walls within which I find myself
Why does it bring back memories
Of a life belonging to someone else?

Is that where I would sit
And think of what once was
Is that where I once laid my head
And stole moments with lovers long-lost

Are those my books lying scattered
In the corner on the floor?
Are those my painful memories
Locked in the trunk by the door?

Why does my heart resist
To let in what loudly knocks?
Why does it build these walls?
Why does it place these locks?

Why does this land feel so alien?
It feels no longer mine
I thought home would be home for always
Home where the sun always shined

Is this madness or ennui?
Am I stolen from my past?
Or has the being so far changed
That what was long gone is gone at last

I feel uneasy in this shell
Of the man that was left behind
It no longer fits that well
It constricts and it binds

What is this face most familiar?
In the mirror at me it stares
I remember those eyes
I remember those wares

This is a man I knew long ago
In these walls he did reside
His memories still linger here
In the shadows he still hides

When I left long ago
It seems some bridges were burned
What is this place most familiar?
And can I ever return?


Between Acts

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth.

This is where the words of the immortal bard end and mine begin. For I am unsure that I have yet to progress to the next act.

In life I have played many roles – the lover and the villain, the vagabond and the general, the joker and the martyr, the dutiful son and the argumentative brother, the protector and the destroyer. But facades fade and in time I find myself confronted with the same visage in the mirror. Hated and cherished all at once.

These past few years have been spent searching for meaning and place in this life. For direction and position. It is a struggle that many encounter. When the exuberance of youth begins to ebb and the desire flares for the wisdom of ages spent to begin to show. For the seas of life to part and the path to the next phase to present itself.

This is where I find myself caught in the quagmire of self doubt and unending questions. I look to plans of the future to guide me, unsure that I have chosen the right path.

Like others before me I have erred. But find myself hard pressed to scorn faults of my youth. For each mistake has brought me to this moment now. And if I am happy, is it not all for worth? Are past glories not sufficient to tide over the swell of mistakes, forgiven but not forgotten?

But the question remains. Where to go from here. Forward – resilient in the face of trepidation and terror? Or to face behind – attempting to correct grievous error and make whole heart torn asunder?

Or is at simple as saying TO BE CONTINUED…