Forward On

Blindly, barely pushing in the only sure direction

Wildly taking swings into a man with no complexion

All I know is not to go the way from whence I came

For all I know, I'm wrong on every detail but my name

The only other way is forward, so by any means we go

Then again, what if I'm wrong on everything I think I know

Then all the years were spent for naught and every mile walked in vain 

But only forward, never backwards we'll continue once again

If ever others travel sure of paths and of the ways they'll tread

And the ending point, in fact, is that of which they wish they're led

It must have been arranged by means not of this earth, but of divine

And If by man and not by godly means then surely I am blind

But wrong on everything I'm not, and by no means can I not see

So as to why I walk these paths with no direction still escapes me 

But I'm certain of one thing, I never falter down for long 

And so as long as I'm in step, there's one less thing I'm doing wrong 

Reviews

[Tony Jordan]

Very eloquently described C.I.
That feeling of being directionless and adrift, of needing our planar compass recalibrating and blindly trusting to faith - not in diety but in the 'auto-pilot' that is the soul I guess...
Yes you do weave some wonderful poetry-cloth indeed. Your attention to detail is obvious.

[Cerebriation]

Thank you for your words good sir.

[Tony Jordan]

Welcome C.I.
Keep up the good work my friend.