blanket comfort with derision

when clarity comes with circumstance

comes blurred as to a newborn sight,

a solid stance beholds the chance

while not the weary, fearful flight

through infant lids of infant day

seep images of a world at loss

for words, whichever way to say,

that in the end, its but a toss

and still surrender slighted notions

as muted as immobile motions

’til then a perfect day arrives

with average, automatic vision

and now, it seems, the sullen strives

to blanket comfort with derision

and in the end he knows which path

will bring the solace more endearing

than brings the moment mournful wrath

and which will end his constant fearing

for in the end the truth is clear

that in the end we face our fear