Despair

At moonrise a weariness comes over me,

And I dream of trees holding up a sky,

Beneath which I walk, seeking a lost road

To the house of a friend.

And in this twilight of my brain

I pray for a gate,

Or a bridge,

Or a tunnel,

By which I may come to an end.

But there are no walls for gates,

Or rivers for bridges,

Or mountains for tunnels.

There is nothing to stop me,

There is nothing to hold me.

Yet I must go on-

For how can one rest

Where there is neither wall nor hill nor sea,

And where in the full darkness

Little lights show

Only to vanish as one approaches them?