the road ahead.

I still cannot see the road ahead,

Though so close it has become.

And time does not slow,

Though I wish it were so,

So I could remember where I came from.

And I still cannot hear the voice that calls,

From beyond the wall of black.

But I feel the cold,

Of the ironclad hold,

Of the hand that pushes my back.

And I still cannot hold the hand that guides,

Through the winding path of life.

Its warming feeling,

Gives a sense of being,

Free from all of my strife.

But I can feel you standing there,

Waiting for me on the other side.

With your arms spread,

Waiting to hold my head,

And restoring in me, my sense of pride.

(that’s a “thescience” original)