God, I'm Lonely (again)

(God, I'm Lonely, Reminiscence, 30x40, 2008)

I tend to follow in the foot steps of my past and as my feet find themselves fitting within my past impressions in the mud, I discover my feet used to be bigger.
What has happened; to all the strength I used to have, has it faded like the black of my hair as it falls or turns white, or have I forgot who I once was. There could be no mistake I reassure myself, that I had lost something from all of my travels, oh the years escape as I look upon my only memory; a series of photo albums without dates or locations, just the faces of my past and the places I once seen with different eyes. I look at these landscapes and think of the person just like me but very much different, seeing all of this, and I think of what he might of thought at that moment, was he sad when the skies were overcast and the sea was dead, was he humble when the light fell upon a small part of the forest for just a moment long enough for his camera to capture? I can no longer remember, I can no longer see myself there in these places with these faces. They exist without me, like their lives before me, and like their lives after me. And like a moth, I fly to the light, each push of my wings takes a grain of dust from my memory as the places I have seen escape me, falling to the ground, and soon I forget where I came from as I continue to fly to this beautiful thing as I fall apart to reach it.