Outside, the Tempest looms, forever growing;With loud ominous Thunder crashing,Like peals from a thousand bells, tolling;A Darkness, I have seen never before, encroaching;Light, now a pale dot, and fast fading.
for i am a drifter,an aimless wanderer, a rudderless boat,a sculler who lost his oars
like a driftwood, wait for the river to take me places,never aware whether am washed ashore or still…
The mirror, the mirror, I stood before.Clash of light and shadow, an image it bore.Of me, from me, for me to adoreIt may be me, but it’s not Me.
For I am a Poser, a Pretender. Of that I am sure.