That Was Then, This Is Now

In the wind that blows with the rain is a man with a past very dark lonesome he was, and in pain through years all fruitless and stark now, life for him is beautiful and new the tears and fears of old have no power the long journey is nearly through as the gale becomes a spring shower this life has in cycles and circles been led round and round, up and down, before and after countless are the tears he has shed yet sometimes smiles too, and laughter once a beggar, then a king, then a beggar again in ignorance and blindness he once stumbled now dimly seeing, the man does begin to awaken and realize how he tumbled it was drugs! it was drink! it was "i" he barely noticed the brink then, shuddering, he... looked forward, and then peered behind seeing nothing, then looking back he recoiled he had been no king, noble and kind but a knave, a slave, still bleeding and soiled so close to his grave, yet so far from his heart ruled by feelings, urges, and addictions and attended by demons, all playing a part in dramatic delusions, and fantastic fictions thinking life was lost, and the end was near all was in vain, and no credit was due he set out to change from need and from fear and he stumbled some more it is true but that first moment of sight will never be over a feeling worse than can be described once a carefree wanderer and restless rover he became an accuser who couldn't be bribed that was then, this is now and i have reason to believe the way is clear, and is how to renew, not to fail, or to grieve and one fine day, clear and bright the light will grace his rising frace what was wrong will be right and he will be done with the chase