in the sky there is a moon, always set to full;
          so far away, and when i climb, the weather starts to cool.
all else there is are boxes not lined up or rowed;
past them is just darkness, i'm surrounded and alone.
some of them are wooden, others steel or stone;
some are made of crystals, some are made of bones.
i've opened all the boxes, looking to find help;
a jagged path, to locate my fate, unsure of what is left.
i could stack them neatly, build myself a home;
create a life around them, quite and on my own.
but these boxes are my options, i fear if i don't choose;
ill be forever stranded, unsure and confused.