The air called after me,
Eyes unblinking, I answer
"For what purpose do you need me?
Of what service am I?"
Is it that I am blind and may not see?
Foresight now fills my mind.
Hindsight, though, is left far behind.
Lonesome, I set out now, divine
Is my cause so I stay in line.
But am I to continue?
Must I search for a new venue,
A different place to call my own?
It seems, for a year, or a tear, I am alone.