The eventual is an enigma,
An inquisition common in our minds.
What will come to pass is dark, forsaken
In the eyes of man. Crystal glasses filled
With silver smoke satisfy some souls with
A false hope, but no one can ever change
The fated, inescapable future.
A mockery of evanescent light
Turns our minds into suffocating beasts
As futile footsteps follow us down our
Destined paths. Longing to forget what we
Hope will lie in the past, dead to our thoughts,
One foot falls in front of the other,
A winding path we all follow blindly.
Brutalized by our past anxieties,
It will all be okay when we reach the end.