As I stand by the crackling fire
on a starry winter night
the streaks of smoke swim
and cavort around me
rising up incessantly
from the entrails of my being
my apprehensions have,
once again, found me
another year gone by
the road ahead still unclear
a path obscured by fog
another too obvious
the fire burns
the flame stronger than ever
on past it still dwells
of the future oblivious
haunted by the ghosts
of wasted time
I ask myself
was it really "wasted"?
was it the failings
that were numerous
or the success
that I tasted?
burned my hands
by the decisions I made
or was there something else
that I could do?
am I just a bumbler,
an empty vessel
and a mere waddler
whom everyone is used to?
a facade of mirth
veils my weary self
where do I go from here
of that I am unsure
these inquistions fork my existence
I am a shameless optimist
a coward rationalist
and many more, and many more
