On Siren's Songs - A Review

There's a certain romance to a train going the other way. To a bus, whose doors seem to open just for you. It's red letters say somewhere you've never heard before. They tell of an unknown place. The empty seats are the answer to a riddle that you haven't even heard yet.

The beckon call of elsewhere, whose taste is simultaneously ash and gold.

And I've always been a gambler.

I haven't done it, the known always grabs me by the scruff of my neck and, like a scolding mother, sets me back on the tracks heading to where I've promised to be.

And maybe that's good. Maybe a sense of duty is what I need to stop my mind (and my legs) from wandering too far off route.

But what's the value in a route that you didn't plan?

I want to be on the road. A bitter fantasy stolen from the pages of Kerouac. Brock. And that Blind Pilot.

But being lost can be lonely. It can terrify. It can rip out your humanity and throw it in the gutter with your shadow.

But that doesn't stop me from wanting to be like the coastline to an ice cap.

But this occasionally impetuous gambler knows not to stack his chips against time.

Instead, I wager, I'll wait and see where an icy tide might take me.

Thanks for reading, have a great weekend.