I'm not really all that mysterious


In these silent moments, I wander my thoughts
the wrack and ruin of the years gone by
the tumult and the despair
the small victories, the trifling triumphs
in all this havoc, I marvel at
how Time consumes possibility
like a ravening beast, it rends apart Chance
rasping the meat off its bones,
reveling in blood and spent breath
and inevitability is what it excretes
Fate is the spoor of Time

In these silent moments, I wander through my worry
through the labyrinthine citadel of my misgivings
and yet, the seasons rage on like a river in flood
like the endless, restless sea
crashing time and again upon the eroding shorelines of this present moment
forcing this decision, this agonal moment resting on the razor’s edge

I cannot see what lies before me
but all the roads lead there
there is no other way except forward
and I do not even have the luxury of regret
the paths behind me strewn with debris
the bridges all tumbled down, on fire

Oh, feel Time’s merciless lash
even as weariness overtakes you
the chariot wheels will keep spinning
even after you have been dragged into the ground

It is not choice that drives me
there is no alternative
but to go on
though I do not know the way

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