Land of Shadows

What once I was I am no longer.
What once I had has been taken from me.
The life, the strength, the drive, the force,
All hallmarks of vitality have left my frame.
To leave me cast away upon the shore
Of the land of shadows.

Now I pass my days walking amidst those
Who sit in silent consternation at how they’ve come to be.
And I gaze fearfully at those who move without
Knowing the why, or whereto, or wherefore.
At night I listen to the unanswered cries for help,
And I hear the pitiable sobbing of those who dwell in this place.

I cannot be among these shadow folk.
I do not belong here.

I stand upon the banks of Acheron and
Plead with the boatman to take me from this place.
But he remains unmoved. His task is pitiless.
No one returns from the land of shadows.

But I know I will return, for this is not my place.
I will plunge into the dark waters.
I will claw my way from this inhospitable shore
To find my rightful home in the light, among the laughter.
Far from the land of shadows.

Stepping Off the Curb

Quelle tristesse. Struck down while crossing the boulevard. By a Peugeot, no less. Ah, friends. The irony is not lost on me.

This singular misfortune left Le Boulevardier with a broken back. And after almost four weeks in the hospital I now reside in a rehabilitation center, where I struggle to regain the strength in my back and legs to be able to simply walk again!

Who could imagine that it could be so difficult to do so simple a thing, an activity most all of us have been doing freely and thoughtlessly since we’ve been children?

Ah, well. Such things can happen when one steps off the curb of the boulevard. And there is no sense in assigning fault or blame. Things remain as they are, and assigning fault or blame ameliorates nothing.

While I remain in this, alas, pitiable state you may follow my progress in greater detail here. In the alternative you may find simple joy in a good Bordeaux and the wit of Oscar Wilde. Such a clever fellow.