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Sorrow
Aimlessly he wanders.
Had it been days?
Weeks?
Years?
Since he had been guided by the suns warmth and light?
He hadn't a clue.
He was lost.
How had he ended up here?
Clueless of his destination.
The one thing he knew for certain,
His happiness had escaped him,
He'd become a prisoner to his sorrow.
Hands waving feverishly in front of his face,
Grasping at the air,
Like a blind man wandering train tracks,
Lost without the guidence of his all seeing companion.
