Walking Down Eastern Parkway

I realized that I'm able to pick up a local wi-fi network from a lawn chair in my backyard.
There were some technical difficulties putting up this post . . . but it
should do the trick. Click on the link to see the photos and text from
my walk.
As a note the pictures were taken on my mother's camera
-which which while technically superior, I am (as of yet) not entirely used to using
. . . please forgive their quality.

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Walking down Eastern Parkway . . .

By day and by night.
People pass like ships at sea in the thick of dark.

Walking down Eastern Parkway
By night and by day

Sunlight comes down in patches through green spring leaves blowing in the light breeze, creating a dancing mosaic of light and dark on the gray brick floor.

I'm walking down the Parkway. Cars zooming by -New Yorkers in a rush to be somewhere, anywhere, nowhere fast. People taking their time watching the birds. The minstrel, the
fool, strumming his guitar with a smile on his face that no one seems to understand, perched on a his thrown -a park bench under a tree dedicated in honor of Ira Goldberg.

But me, I'm walking, walking down the parkway, walking down the parkway of life.

I'm going forward, my feet are moving, one step at a time . . .>

I'm a mover . . . started moving so long ago, started heading towards the light, and I'm not about to stop. I'm moving forward, but I keep glancing back.
I'm going . . . I push myself forward,
even when I want to scream to a tumultuous world -silenced by the
fury of the storm. I know I gotta keep goin' -no stopping on this train, it's going express.

But I keep glancing back, though I'm walking forward.

I look and I think. Is it still there . . . Or did it already surpass me?
Can I still see it now . . . objects in the mirror may be closer then they seem.
And I remember

Sleepless nights. Tears dampening my pillow. Silent screams from the heart, crying 'cause it just aint fair. Wanting and asking and praying during those sleepless nights . . .
>and smiling days, because it doesn't end here. Because I'm walking forward.
Because being happy is what we all want, and I won't have it any other way.

And though I look back. And scream. And cry. I know I can't change it . . . it's check mate my friend. The pieces have been moving into place through all those years. Pawns
in the hand of Deeper then Deep Blue, scattered around the parkway of life. Your Rook takes my Bishop, Your Pawn is now a Queen.

So now I'm moving forward, one step at a time. Down Eastern Parkway.

You can get on for the ride or get out of the way -'cause this train is going express . . . down the parkway of life.

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