Alone,
gazing as far as the heart can see,
down a narrow, inviting road
to a place where I would rather be.
How brisk the steps,
how caliginous the night,
how solemn the wrongs,
before the feeling’s right.
Moving blindly
trusting fate,
endless empiric
arriving late.
Resplendent dreams, transcendent hope,
where are all the years?
Fleetly passing unfulfilled
transported by the tears.
What direction now,
what will I do?
Where are the...
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