There has to be some sort of
symmetry my soul is missing.
It seems I see the gore that
endlessly grows on within me.
I also see the lights of
actuality and love.
But calls from me for sight
in reality get lost above.
I know someone is listening
beyond the words I pray:
if so, the sun will glisten
neon rays on me someday.
Until this time, I travel the sky,
the moon to light my way.
And in this rhyme, I unravel why
I wish soon to sight the day.

kbww