I am so low as snow, easily freckled to a point of being spread out in the howling hail, with no inner child to mold me
I travel a winding road driving a beaten up beetle, breaking down in the middle of nowhere, with no strength remaining to push
I walk long hallways, past endless locked doors, with no key to open
I pass through long dark tunnels, with no match at hand
I fly skies of endless blues, with no hope of landing on land
I swim vast bottomless seas, staying afloat with nothing to hold
This journey I continue with a flickering ray of hope to find an open door.