Far away the tunneled darkness–

close at hand the air.

Near behind a silent formless

feeding on the fair.

Here before me pours a curtain:

cloaking-mists of rain

that lead on to a world uncertain…

joyfulness or pain.

All I know’s the slickened sidewalk

down the path I’ve been

glows with electric, lifeless light-stock

I’ll not face again.

So I stand upon the threshold

feeling whifts of spray.

I’ll board the train, pass the mist-fold,

pray to find the day.