Round, round, turn round again

Looking for horizons on the edge of the world

And finding none.

Just this vast mirror-flat sea of nothing,

An arching vault above casting back the same.

Disquiet, unease, rising uncertainty and confusion

Each feeding upon the other leading up the path

To bleak despair.


I am lost, deprived of signs and signposts,

Signals and directions.

No map, no guiding star, no charts, no compass.

Neither up nor down, no east nor west.

With entrance from womb to death’s sure exit

There has always been a path

That leads to here and goes to there.

One that starts from then,

Goes on to who-knows-where

Briefly pausing at now.


All gone. No sail. No ship. No rudder.

No anchor. No sea. No sky. No stars.

Hands outstretched, finding nothing to hold

Because a madman with evil intent

Was given permission, our permission,

To rampage among the children

Taking all they had, all we had,

Leaving the world in darkness, grief and sorrow.

Now I am lost.


There are no longer any certainties,

No sureties in this wicked world.

Un-moored from once-safe harbour and set adrift.

No sextant, no compass, no map

To tell what lies ahead or behind.

All humanity robbed when the children were slain.


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