I used to see a tunnel of darkness
Engulfing me as I moved by
Treating me like an unholy heathen
Without ever telling why.
Hope I somehow clung to
I know not how and never have
In this cavern of joys and jewels
All I had was a seat in the back.
An ornithologist I was, and continue to be
Studying forms of life that mystify me
I do not know how this road ends
Maybe I’ll catch life’s fleeting glimpse
Estranged from life
Estranged from fear
However strange I may appear
And I march on with my crutches in hand
Confused? You bet.
I know me as I am for sure.
Why is it then that I don’t succumb to it?
Even when I can almost hear the reaper’s call
I don’t know.
Maybe I never will.
I still wander in this maze
In this maze without a torch at hand
I made forth, with a tired soul
To impending doom, come what may.
So what am I supposed to say
Can I ever be at home again?
Back to the times when I knew light
And darkness kept 6 feet apart
I know not my heading
A blind cartographer I am
Making a map of life blindfolded
Cast out to the void for the reaper’s hand.