Countless fired and flaming rows
of foot-worn streets I walked,
watching faces grow and become the things
of the evils that they talked.

I shot a sidelong sharpened glance
at these foes whose names are lost,
only to fall in line with them,
standing crooked, callow, crossed.

I donned a suit and played the part.
I spoke their words and sneered
at lonely men with drooping hearts
as mine did disappear.

I lived like this for centuries,
at least that’s how it seemed,
all the while grasping at air
and forgetting what I’d dreamed.

Until one day I heard a voice
come wafting through my door.
It said "Temptation is a ghost,
you’re meant for something more."

Stricken by this phantom noise,
I thought that I’d been called
upon by gods or angels then,
and so to them I crawled.

I crawled, I crawled, I lived like dust,
blowing this way and that,
atoning for what I had become,
and on my face fell flat.

I must have died a thousand times
if only in my thoughts.
My head grew weary, sight grew dim,
my heart ******* in knots,

When out of darkness came a hand
reaching out to mine,
and pulled me up. I stood again,
though much more straight this time.