Behold on the edges a shade of a light
Promises, pitfalls, intrigues and a crowd
While you are approaching the pages turn white
And whispers of travels turn startlingly loud

You will find in time that a scene can survive
With reasons for thriving remaining opaque
How precious it seems that what keeps you alive
Is left there to rust by your fear it will break

The curse of the thinker; the curse of the lost
To wander and ponder and wait for the end
The cinders we stand with the ultimate cost
Of wanting to know what we feel we pretend

And yet when the faucets of fate have been sealed
When cement has covered the paths you have crawled
You find that the blisters of old start to heal
And glimpse at the truth just beyond the facade