Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Whilst the future unknown, so am I

Years and years have passed, the soreness never.
Like a cat hurled into a pool, trying its best to paddle ashore.
Not to be drown, but to what awaits?

Is there really a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?
Or will there be a leprechaun with empty pockets?
Unbeknownst to the traveller, the journey lasts for aeons.

Let bygone be bygone, one may say.
Perhaps a one-time hero fallen from grace is not worthy, another suggests.
At the end, nobody can recall who he was.