Well, here I am back in the centre of things, that is physically.
I'm a little further out mentally or emotionally or spiritually, on the edge of things, you might say; leaning away from the curve of the pavement; beyond the racing cars with their faces steely blue, and out beyond the railway track, floating above the pollution; somewhere.
Physically I must remain I suppose.
For a time anyhow.
It will go.
Falling back in step with the striding angular shoulder blades and the clickety-clack of the step upon hard ground, but I don't really want to fall in.
I want to wander.
There are croaking bloated coughs here, eyes sore from artificial light, they do not seem to grow with the green- the evergreen.
They are stunted in their musing, in their singing and their dancing.
But here I am in the centre of things.
Things being here.
Here being things.
And around and around it goes.
but, really, I have flown away to sweeter days...