Lonesome Road

Drifting through an endless dream,

alone along these streets unclean.

Sunlight scorches a nearby stream -

gemstone pebbles' painful gleam.

It's here, within this summer scene,

I find myself trembling.

Swirling shadows, like a stormy sea;

an ocean of anonymity.

Slender tendrils pull relentlessly:

"Are you afraid of little old me?

Embrace us, and find clarity

for that which you strive desperately..."

The clever Serpent's practiced lines

from a tongue of vile argentine.

Though what use have I, these eyes of mine,

overshadowed by any Sun that shines?

Perhaps it's time to read the signs

and let this Darkness and I entwine.

Yet in these scattered thoughts I find

sanctuary, at least of a kind.

The kind that helps my ailing mind

acclimatize to a world redefined -

not black and white, with tidy lines.

It's both of them at once combined.

So, somewhere along this lonesome road,

embraced by rain or sleet or snow,

there's a distant place I've still to go,

beyond this endless ebb and flow.

But today, the only thing I know:

the path starts just a step beyond my shadow.