The tainted lens
I can’t stop jumping from here to there,
From comfort to fear,
From apathy to care.
One moment I’m on the right path,
Then all is lost,
And I’m roaming in the bushes,
Or rolling in the dust.
My work is my calling,
And then it’s not.
It’s full of purpose,
Until that’s lost.
All I want to do is to create,
And then to discover.
And then all I want to do is to do,
Before it’s too late.
There’s no one to approve of these musings,
No one to shed light on my way.
But life will shed its own light,
Banishing darkness from this night.
I’ll be what I am,
And the struggle to find myself
Will never end.
For I am the searching and the scratched lens.