Dragging weary feet
Along dead trails; with ears
Aching from stiff silence
Nervous, gritting teeth,
My bet is on a veiled vision,
As I drift on this strange terrain,
Back and forth, I plod,
With a battered sense of judgement
And an untamed longing
For a recognition I'll never get
Whether it is on a troubled sea I sail;
Whether I glide across clouded skies;
Or I travel through a hazy highway,
I am unable to tell;
Inscrutable is the map
Of this land of romance
Just like the thought you, my reticent lover,
Have about me in your mind.