He walked the hall of darkness
Toward where the light had shone
But the headlamp of the coming train –
Was on
He strolled with tunnel vision
His eyes deceived by rain
It was only a short shower –
Umbrella’s sweet refrain
He dawdled down the road less travelled
He heard thunder – more like hail –
His hearing was imperfect –
He was frail
He crawled upon the avenue
To the parkland – hear the band
His sight showed him perfection –
Then he ran
For he could not face perfection
Even excellence could be
Pristine in the valley –
Unspoiled in the sea
And he could not bear consider merit –
It did not sit well with him –
Though hard-fought, his achievements (such as they were)
Had been
But those were for others to judge
When they had the time
In the tunnel, in the parkland,
In the valley, in the rain,
The light, once bright, like sunshine –
Whence it came.
first published on https://mytrendingstories.com
sensualism 