The Deed
My thoughts most forward
Are shadowed
By those ill remembered.
I cannot see clearly
The path that lies ahead,
Nor paths behind
I have just traveled.
I know not from whence I came,
And most definitely do not see
Where I am headed . . .
Last night felt a torturous deed
The dream I believed
Would never end,
The tasks I labored, I hope
Are trivial in meaning,
Or at least come back to me
If need called upon.
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