Round, round, turn round again
Looking for the horizon at the edge of the world
And finding none.
Just this vast mirror-flat sea of nothing
And an arching dome above reflecting the same.
Disquiet, unease, rising discomfort, uncertainty,
Each feeding upon the other leading up the path
To unreasoned panic.
Lost, I am lost, deprived of signposts.
No map, no guiding star, neither up nor down.
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
With a brief pause at now.
All gone. No sail. No ship. No rudder.
No anchor. No sea. No sky.
Hands outstretched, finding nothing.
Because a madman with evil intent
Was given permission, our permission,
To rampage among children
And take all that they had, all that we had,
Leaving the world in darkness.
Now I am lost.
There are no certainties, no sureties in this world
Unmoored from once safe harbour and set adrift.
No sextant, no compass, no map
For what lies ahead or behind.
All humanity was robbed when those children were slain.

This has been a Piperguy48 production
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