'Tis not for clear vindication,
nor some charitable façade I walk this road.
'Tis only that I found myself here—
dwelling, seemingly lost,
when the path ahead was not clear enough to see.
I know not if my aching body will make it.
I know not if it matters that it does.
I know only I search for peace—
a brief respite—
for it is not searching for me.
Lowering the bucket into the small, unkept well
that is my heart—
beneath the dark, untamed waters,
one might find my eyes as they once were:
an innocent nakedness.
One might also find the stillborn and lifeless—
a victim of the ruthless continuation of time.
'Tis not for clear vindication,
nor some charitable façade I walk this road.
I walk because I must—
and that is all I know.