Certainty, Or A Lack Thereof
Bits of my soul spread across this world
with every confidante I gained.
With every step of life endured,
A haven of hope maintained.
As I walk through the corridors
of time, I see sanctuaries sustained
through every step, on every floor.
A spot of hope remained.
The more I walk, the more I see,
spacetime warps with every matter.
Time has lost its grip on me,
each incident for worst or better.
Separation, brought about by
Words carved on slates of stone
Unseen by all eyes, understood by all,
strips a feeling to the bone.