I wonder, if in everything I do,
there is a guiding light; standing
apart watching me, to beguile
the shadows of a starless night

Would duty impart importance
to the fact of its existence; would
the light assuage those hurt by
callous burden as it should?

Endlessly creative as only true
emotion can be; but held at bay
by the things we are trained to
ignore by what other voices say

Could it be that no matter the
cost, what is right will save me?
Or is it only providence who will
judge the dim light I cannot see?