Here today, I see no wind above the horizon,

That once had the will to fleet and stun all lives.

I am on my porch standing with my arms wide open,

To utmost nothingness but a faded sillage.

Urged to the weakness of my will to see a phantom,

That glided through cries and flattered its vanity.

I murmured not long before a beam pierced through,

To unravel a bend within the passage I nearly sunk into.

How an unspoken tale yearns to be heard,

By eyes that flipped through its pages recklessly,

But Oh! Crying out to the unsighted, would they hear

My words abounded with stillness?

Hanging onto unwoven threads of hope, is it true

That I would plummet to an endless descent?

Clenching my fists around an unattested spar,

Will I have my footprints marked again on home?