Wednesday, August 19, 2009

To a friend coming home.

You rode a dog cross mountains,
Through plains of
Crystal meth despair,
Across the badlands
Fit for rugged cultures adept
To hardships and depression.

You stand again in the glittering city
Invigorated and learned,
With lofty goals and the tools
To change the world around you.

The lights aren't as blinding as
They used to be,
The smog gives them an eerie sheen.

And you will long for the past
And the future,
And now,
My brother, all this and more
Will be yours.

Welcome home, it is good to hear
Your laughter
Fingerprint of a soul
That is at heart same as ever;
Echoing a carefreeness that
Can't be mistaken for carelessness.

Together we will plot a plan
Aimed at the betterment of man,
Armed with good intentions,

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