Fool

And I cling to all that I hold dear
Whilst ‘tis easy to say I need empathy’s embrace,
Whilst I think I know where I fall clear
Amidst the worn rhymes of a litany’s grace

And I grasp the hands of those I’ve harmed
As if I could imagine the forgiveness’ light,
A stranger, buried in linen, charmed,
Of a bed where I never truly slept at night.

Where is the meaning in all this plight?
For I cry it out in every tale spun
That I cannot find even a path, despite
How arduous, to return to thy days, once begun.