What do I have on this empty white surface
This wordless page mocks my pen
There is no life, there is no death
There is only... (dot, dot, dot)

Emotionless indifference pulled to the unknown
A course not yet plotted
A map, as yet, undrawn
Precision of thought can't connect the dots
There is only... (dot, dot, dot)

No fear or apprehension
A new world awaits
The first step, a new life
Still, there is an unwritten story
And I am mocked by this empty white page
There is only... (dot, dot, dot)

Reason burns the prime
leaves in their cinders no solace
for one likely answer are a hundred questions
where crumbling bones can’t have the will
to climb anymore the rungs endless.

Finds beneath feet a resting ground
that in glimmer of hope abound
a tunnel light an emerging design
to craft from chaos a face divine.

Utters a prayer that’s never too late
succumbs blissfully to the savior the faith.