Mind Mapping Distant Shores

Once upon a restless night, tormented soul rustles through lingering doubts…willful wakefulness as sleep elusively sets sail to a Mediterranean Sea…Monte Carlo there on the French Riveria, thinking of Princess Grace and cliffs, steep ones, down sloping sorrow. Focusing now on the past and progress… or lack thereof. Life unreeling like a sometimes bad movie. Music soundtrack rearranges as I seek a sunny room to hide from creeping fear, my new frenemy. Put the pen down why must all these random thoughts come at night like slightly unwelcome boorish house guests? The mind saying write this down, the fingers in quick rebellion turn to a soft pillow that beckons toward…Viking ships. Look, it is your ancestors there, a plunderous bunch, but they being brave, strong, took what they needed cutting through those crisp, icy waves, sails set full speed they spawned the children of wild abandon this being…long before those whalers departed from the East and netted 333 whales in the Antarctic…before Donald Trump fluffed his hair for the 43 millionth time along with the feathers of many Americans and a bird landed on a podium in the middle of a speech. Mind running like its missing the main character somewhere, but now a stranger with an agenda appears. He’s taking attendance in another world that I cannot pass through….I am just left of this list, doomed to walk listlessly through the time of yesterday, discarded child of the past, future splattered into little compartments of tomorrows that won’t be still or march quietly to their place.