Aeons ago,
A man walked upon the ground,
Taking painful care,
To guide his steps around the filth,
Never slipping, never failing,
Always safe.

He’d stroll throughout the night,
With no light to show his path,
Except the light that shone from his wizened eyes,
Never faltering, never giving up,
Always safe

Nobody knew or cared,
Whence the old man hailed,
All anyone could ever know,
Was the path he never failed to take,
Always safe.

For fifty years,
That single path, he would walk,
By night, without light, never by day,
Blissfully unaware of what lay around him,
Of the hurt and pain that would consume his mind.

Each single day the old man woke,
His eyes, his reactions gradually slowed,
Until at last he could not see, he could not react,
Yet still he walked that same old path,
Guided by his mind.

When at last, his mind did begin to give,
The old man resolved at last,
Tomorrow he would traverse a final time,
To visit what he sorely missed,
And say goodbye.
However, the old man never did reach,
The chosen destination,
For his path was interrupted,
By those who’d watched him all these years,
Those who had professed to keep him safe,
Now turned upon him one by one…

They struck once, they struck twice,
The old man crumbled beneath their force,
His knees gave way, his hips no use,
Until at last he fell upon the ground,
And kissed the earth, one final time.

And to this day, still he lies there,
On the path he could never let go,
Foolishly thinking the world was safe,
Until it became,
His final resting place.


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