This morning I stood in front of the mirror watching, who is that? The now grey haired man with no real smile looks into his tired eyes and sighs.

I'm outside looking in at me, staring, silent, naked and cold, peeling away my fragile shell to face my fears within, the man in the mirror just looks on, I have to go into my fears and under my skin searching within myself to feel whole again, running, tired, tortured and torn.

I claw away the unseen scars to heal the wounds within. And the man in the mirror looks out as he reaches in. So many things I leave undone. Too late to turn back, I could change course before the end but when all is said and done all I really want is a chance to start again, staring, silent, naked and cold outside looking in feeling my way through the wilderness for a place to begin, the man in the mirror reaches out to the man within.

I've walked through my wasteland of words and memories looking for the person I used to be, thoughts I don't recognize make me realize times have changed and so have I. A familiar fear comes back to me, of life no longer with anyone to sit with, talk with, hold, getting older nothing to inspire. The bitter harvest of a barren soul, I'm painting pictures you may understand and I pretend to yawn while the real tears blind my eyes, makes me realize I'm choking, and a familiar fear claims another day...

I have stood at the edge of the world where the sea of sand and sky collide with a distant horizon and dreamt of drifting away standing beneath a troubled sky, I watched the dark clouds gathering closed my eyes to the storm that broke and wake on another day.

The man turns and walks away. He sits at his desk presses the button and the wires come alive, he can't remember the date he first entered here, so many friends have completed their journey, some have been here for what feels like eternity he talks to friends, the phone rings. I'm holding on clutching to the hope that I'll be strong when it comes down to it with every ounce of strength within me.

Tha sinn uile air cuan stiureadh cuairt troimh ar beatha a' seoladh geola dhorch
air chall an greim na mara tha a'ghaoth air ar cul tha a' gheol a' cumail roimhe
'S cha dean uair no an cuan tonaisgh dhuinn no rian