Anticipation screams a clouded riddle
Fraught with deprivation and disappointment
Fighting with myself I exceed the breaking point
And my wounds bleed with no cure or ointment
The illumination waits at the finale of this tunnel
though the gap is protracted and my sense’s prevail unawares
Each stride prolongs my journey in oblivion
I, in anguish, peer at my feet so I do not trip, descending into despair.