Through black of endless nights alone I walk,
Not riven from my soul by fancy free,
Or cleft by careless thought my way to mock,
But calmly chosen choice of what’s to be.
Father, mother, dead in full of age,
Ripped cold from arms a babe might try to hold;
Friends and lovers left to sorrow’s wage,
While up ahead the tale lies still untold.
Where shall tomorrow’s path betake my feet?
What clatter mask the silent tongues of time?
Can vision new with vision past compete?
Or lose itself in earth like sun-washed wine.
Look forward to the stars. I can, I must!
And in a fated love my heart entrust.