Looking backwards from Montaña Tesa on a windy day

from the summit of Montaña Tesa

the horizon was clear

with views over to Feurteventura 

and veins running across the island

the cool wind was gusting over

the crater dangerously -

I was high up there and

I was trying to find the words

trying to not just spit the lines
but to utter some deeper truths 

trying to find my voice without losing myself to it

so here's what happened between

me, myself and I 

as I looked out across the island from the summit of Montaña Tesa

I spoke honestly to the clouds 

and to the distant volcanos 

and I told them my darkest fears
and my weakest hopes

I let my deepest secrets flow forth 

as my voice made quiet my mind

I uttered a few significant words

as if they might make myself realise 

how I'd actually arrived at this

and I took a moment or two 

before I asked myself directly 

what had become of me on the way?

and I saw my younger self

on all those distant days

for so many faraway months

and years and years 

I thought to myself what a waste

I wished my voice had been lucid

I longed for the courage I’d stifled

I wanted my mind to be whole

I begged for the strength that I hid

in mindless days of misspent youth

the lethargy, apathy, pontification

with a sentiment bordering fondness

I wondered at the deceitful trick 

that the mind can play

how wrong it is to be wistful 

when the memory is so selective

so better to look to the future

with sincere notions of adventure 

and convictions to regain one's self

and to loosen the self-control