It was an array of darkness
And a weary soul paints destiny
Of its own striving to walk a path
Where thorns and thistles lay:
It bequeath the benighted infamy
Of a frenzied life.
The influx of thoughts was plain
To reach out the endless light.
But, as I walk near, it goes off
Far from where I stand.
And as I took a back step, I saw
The pathway comes near so bright.
What is it that I flinch?
Questions were uncertain
nor the meaning so tied
By the curling of my tongue:
My mouth spoke
My senses tensed
And in my awesome amazement
I found myself walking
Back at my old pathways.