And he walked. He entered the dim night.
On a still dare to clear his head.
Thoughts and anxiety bound and tight.
He moved as if knowing that he had been misled.

The bright town of shimmering lights.
The cars that bleed into the street.
Focus past from thoughts on heights.
To the walkers and ghosts that move on the creep.

Albert brooded through the park he walked.
"Falks Ave" where stood his homestead.
Clothed and hidden, his own head distraught,
Thoughts left unsought, words left unsaid.

Where eyes of musty grey show might,
And intimidate the passerby refuse to look,
Upon him, a man of ultimately dim sight,
Friends left unmade, hearts left unshook.

He sees a memory of his own and quickly looks away.
As the shade of a man who already knows his past.
That the history of his lost heart and his present lead astray,
Wounds left untended, Love left ungrasped.

The sound of a train moves distantly so.
Albert sits at a bench and huddles in the cool.
"I don't wish to be here, and yet I still go.
To soothe my soul by looking as a ghoul.

Lonely and cross at what I can't know.
Thinking if I stay here forever, I'll be in the ground.
But I just don't understand why it happened to me."
Help left ungiven, Answers left unfound.

His eyes assess his condition.
The park at his back, the road to his front.
He thinks of an old superstition.
That maybe he just wasn't enough.

That life simply moved as fates hands dictate.
And he is but a puppet being played on his string.
To move through pain and pleasure in his state.
To ultimately be gifted with a gods own blessing.

And then the world shook.
And he didn't know anything.