Light beams at the end of our sight
The bare plain road we walk through
Many are there that talk while they walk
The long journey tunneled down to a funnel
A tiny tip hole out the end it goes.
There in same but a few walk that path
A great vision built up the cloud they go
Rainy sun, breezy stars clouds cover
Not a thing in the sky they aim to see
In a while, vision so crystalline, a bleak light stare
In mire, in sights mix gone mare
The dilemma wades off, off the road do cling
That hole too far to behold.
A straight glow rides along the bow
Stumble and rustle yet not to crumble
The bitter batter shades of grace
Meagre to the eye all needs provide
A prick through and nip
The glare gold ahead beholden
Thorns all the way are rosebuds
For that which lies beyond that tunnel
I must but all scale through.