Some day truth will ring. I have through all my desperate hope this one thing – to burn within me - To ease my suffering, the ceaseless nights - agony. What but this fallow deer can look so innocently? I know I cannot. That gift is lost to me – how they cannot look upon me – wretchedly. It’s not my privilege. And I say, truth will ring - truth will sing! It will soar like clouds over mountains - birds over trees… And I will smile. Bitterly. Because for all my pain and all their pain it will not be enough! And still fate would grab me by my shirt cuff and pull me along anyway. I do not resist… what good is hand or fist? – Against fate. For me it is a little late… I lay silently in the grass, it is forgiving though my tongue be of ash. Fires have all burned away… Little deer won’t you stay? I have no one left - Who will play? With me… I can’t even see. You’ve taken my vision. I’m blind, deaf. Cannot envision. But were my life of chance decision, it’s ephemeral to the stars. Who can rail against such bars? Yet you would seem so certain... For you there is no curtain covering those eyes. And for folly or mistake I want desperately to have vision again. For all your insight what would lay in your wake seems painless. What you see in a world so lucid – leaves me – hopeless. When will I see again? For all of my life – Where have you been?