/ poetry

Going up north

Alleys of signposts
all spinning with the wind
we study their symbols
and follow their whims
until we cannot go on
or we're back to beginning

In the absence of signposts
we scramble for clues
Asking the next best stranger
for the route to our souls
only to have them tell us
where they were told to go

to know where to go
you don't need direction
a signpost won't know
your heart's motivation
so just take it slow
and trust your orientation

Some yearn for the south
embrace the warmth of the sun
but what do you do
if it gets too hot and you can't run?

Some want to go west
to the lands of the free
but how far can you go
when nothing is for free

Some want to go east
to find the light in their soul
when the light that they seek
has always shone through the pores

I'm going up north
where the wind chilps
the water blows
and the birds flow away

Shouting out: Of course!
to anyone
saying: That's no fun
the north's no place to stay

Leaving all the shores
to find myself
and nothing else
just the sound of my breath

Waiting for the roars
to welcome me
beneath the trees
no one to obey

Fleeing all the hoards
Waving them goodbye
it'll be a while
'til I see them again

Listen to the recording of this song

Marcel klehr

Passionate rationalist. Pragmatic melancholic. Random spectator. Unasked commentator.

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Going up north
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