A Poem:

The horizon is futile
With thoughts of its own
The day wears on
Like fly paper to skin
The only thing to think on
Is what is right and what is wrong
In this maddening array of fire
That licks at my heels
As I walk a wire
Between what I know
And what has yet to happen
On one side to fall
The other to fly
My perception is real
That everything is drawing
A line to the end of all
Where all and the end will meet
And there will I be at last
At the bottom
Below the world
Here I will rise
To meet my doom
I am lonely
Is that right
Is it wrong to want to be
To be for others
What I would see myself as
Or am I a seed
That will lie in bed
All of my life
Never to see the sun
Nor any other like myself
I await my fate
In the darkness of soil
Waiting....