Would that I might understand the freedom of error
that part of my life I seem to want to always forget
I will indicate no survival from this constant terror,
the holding of my human condition might I beget.
When just yesterday I smiled and laughed out loud,
tonight again will this tunnel vision soon assail
any thoughtful remedy, perhaps a linen shroud
with a transparency to allow humanity’s love to sail
along uncharted waters, those land masses we shy
from when confronted with the reality of our game.
Is it that simple to imagine just one reason why
our lives held in a chasm of indifference seem tame.
I was crossing the road to find my new composure,
having discovered the ill effects of raw exposure.