My hands are tired
And wracked with age...

A small black lantern, well used I'd say
With soot on the glass and rust at the base...

Some poets
Have lost their way...

A young man
Whose mind was lost...

One by one our time will come
I feared that thought when I was young...

One leaf amoung many
High on a tree...

The world I see
Is unique to me...

I was just a boy
When the question popped in my head...

Man would still be
Living in caves...

Look for reflections
From elders eyes...

I walked alone
A wounded young man...

The wind and the waves
The sand and the haze...