Today, within the pitch black labyrinth of the Pump House, I composed my installation into the opening of a large pipe, about one foot diameter, curving down into the unknown and beyond.
The Journey and The Home
From this place I call home I can see the sky,
A wide open space where clouds powder by,
An emptiness so full with thoughts left half thunk,
A glass of tasty travels not even half drunk.
So no matter where I go on this voyage of me,
There are still pages unwritten about this journey.
Still places to go and faces to know,
Places to plant seeds and watch them grow.
No matter where I go there will always be a home,
In the memories and words as I sit here alone.
Make of it what you will, any thoughts and interpretations welcome.