The Flight of the Rocketman

What immortal hand or eye
Can frame thy immortal symmetry?
-- Tiger by William Blake

I find myself lethargic these days. I can sleep for hours, longer than necessary. The fire is going out; I can feel it. I desperately look for companionship. I need someone to bounce ideas off always. Without articulation and expression, I find myself losing steam. I am slowly losing my glow.

As I told my bestfriend jus recently: I need to get burned.

Where is the fire? Where is the heat? This city is filled with walking stars, walking suns. They are no where near me. The little stars that have burned me have begun to walk away. I have not heard from The Spaceman in almost 2 weeks. The Spearmint has become busy with life. I desperately need the spotlight.

I am losing drive, will and fuel. Do I need to dance again so soon? Why is everything moving so slowly? Where is the money that is owed to me? Why am I working so hard and have nothing to show for? Where is the fire?

I want to get burned. Where is the ice? I want to grasp it and hold it tightly. Ice, when held is hot to the touch. The strange rational: it is so cold, it burns.

I am water. I have always been water but I need to boil.

Where is my fire? I need to burn.