I hung my head,
anxiety guided
a downward motion,
glanced at this life map,
it seemed confused,
meaningless.
Many directions
to unknown hamlets,
all those unopened gates
to hazes upon hills,
they were paler thoughts.
One burned a beacon
through good times,
stubborn bad,
distant, empty-head faults
were acknowledged
in the pyre.
There I remained,
gathered sticks to flame,
heat healing the dark;
eager valleys spread in light
to pilot me home.
Love came, fetched me.
