The procession of weak ones grew weak and pale.
To his mind, chapters opened clear
What was to be a matter of solace, began
shooting into sight as an unhealthy gesture.
Sins of past to be made today's malice,
And a friend then, today's passerby.
Life's thoroughfare showed no footprints
Looking down at what had been off,
Shivers ran through his hair roots.
"Why did it happen- could for
God's sake, things had been different?"
His own words getting unfair to him,
For what he had done till now
was enough- to run through his tears.
But all these had been the weaker marks
and he had a horizon to chase-
An open strait- to put his feet unto,
An open strait- to walk upon.