Cast Your Fate to the Wind

A month of nights, a year of days
Octobers drifting into Mays
You set your sail when the tide comes in
And you cast your fate to the wind
You shift your course along the breeze
Won't sail up wind on memories
The empty sky is your best friend
And you just cast your fate to the wind
That time has such a way of changing a man throughout the years
And now you're rearranging your life through all your tears
Alone, alone
There never was, there couldn't be
A place in time for men to be
Who'd drink the dark and laugh at day
And let their wildest dreams blow away
So now you're old, you're wise, you're smart
You're just a man with half a heart
You wonder how it might have been
Had you not cast your fate to the wind

Cast Your Fate To the Wind
Steve Alaimo
Words by Carel Werber
Music by Vince Guaraldi
By the Vince Guaraldi Trio, the instrumental peaked at # 22 in 1963

Note From Justine

...we were possessed by a desire to communicate
ideas and experiences which overstepped the range
of thought normal to conversation among ordinary people.

Our intimacy was a strange mental order.

Discovering behind the darkly woven sensuality will be
a friendship so profound that we
shall become bondsmen forever.

...her efforts to achieve herself
led her always towards and not away
from him. The world has no place for this
sort of paradox.

Excerpts from "Justine"
by Lawrence Durrell
The 20th Century's finest fiction writer

A Secret

Where did the days go
free spirit days
when I was a secret
and no one knew
time was once
when I was free from
lords and kings.

I long to escape
into fiction and fantasy
to float on billowing
white ermine clouds,
diamond studed starground
dazzling the eye,
the sun reflecting light
through crystal prisms
with colors of the rainbow.

My spirit flies,
flies with the delicately
woven wings of a butterfly,
world of the ordinary ask not
too much from me,
I can compromise no more.

Taking a direct path

I always listen for what I can leave out.

Miles Davis

Remembering Stonedell

It's not like the farm...

Looking beyond lead framed windows
with the tears of the city's pollution
adding layers to the already somber day,
the sky projects a heavy gray mist
across the rooftops and
a cool current moves over me
as I watch
the movement of children on a path
across my yard.
Wires for communications
ornament leafless trees
houses peeling years of color
from their stationary stances.

Remembering
not so many days ago
hillside hues of summer green
wildflower yellows dotted violet,
majestic movements of sleek horses,
resting in the shade of giant oaks
countryside patterns of white fencing
with barns looking like
a picturesque daydream
lying back in a hammock
watching the butterflies dance.

The solitude on a country afternoon
seems so far removed
as the truck is unloaded with shouts
of frustrations
and the highway moves
its crowds and horns
and squealing tires.
Another day
the city sounds
come together...
a continous discordance.