When will we reach the end of our exploring?
When will we know our place for the first time?
When will confusion break like the chandeliers
that are falling from the sky?
We are always on a journey
from the womb to this cramped train,
but somewhere in the process
we got drunk and lost our way.
Now we wander with a purpose,
lest we realize our plight.
We are sailors with no compass
who don’t know left from right.
But with stalwart faces forward
firmed against the fallow night,
we make out that we have purpose.
We have vision. We have sight.
One day an eye will open wide
an eyelid will blink twice
a lonely soul will realize
he’s been lost this whole time.
In some ways it will all end there
He’ll realize the game.
He’s still as lost as we all are
but he’ll never be the same.