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By Kevin Alan Lamb

Bob Dylan sings a raspy tune in my ear
Business men walk by my side
I sit, I listen, and yes, I try
To be different, to make a difference, to be the antithesis of it all
His folklore and reflection make me think of my own
A skill of the great artists, a skill I know not yet, if I own
I write, I type, I talk- and people listen
I spread good word, good faith, hope is my mission
A revolutionary of love, wisdom, and gold souls
I am becoming the mission I wish to lead
For the things I believe in, I need only a mirror to see
If we live not, the lives we preach
Then how, or why, would we ever teach?
My medium is not broad, but of personal reach

Photo Credit to Eric Hampton

In order to see, I first listen, and be blessed to receive
His words, his accents, his rasp, and his soul
An endless journey of hands held by our side
Self-discovery, self-becoming, love to find
Love to be, love to lose, love to seek, and love to choose
These roads we walk, often talk, of men who traveled years ago
They speak of pain, of course none the same, all unique- with beauty to tame
Open roads, un-daunting loads, horizon and possibility fill the sky
Trails of daylight, hopes it’ll stay alright, hopes- of anything at all
Aching stars paint the night sky
Watching, waiting, never certain why
They sing of misery, love they lost, and of course- love never had
The price of eternity they speak, the price of fading, yet never weak
Death by supernova, it’s sure been nice to know ya, whoever, wherever you are
You kiss, I wish, for a taste I know only- for how it is missed
You walk, you tramp, you sleep, you dream
How surreal, the fading life of stars must seem

Bob Dylan


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