My eyes were bound by the darkness around.
My hands did grope for some hope, but none was found.
My hands in search for light found a glove that might bring sight,
As I switched the old bulb, light did bathe a battered glove.
I was right the glove brought sight but of a different kind.
I tried to hold the flood that rose,
But no dam or door could hold such might.
I was thrown in a maelstrom of memories to a place that spoke of my destiny.
I did fade to the place where my young thoughts were led astray.
I was not born of kith ...