The darkness I have seen would be to some considered light. Therefore whom do I speak to when things seem grim?
Who is to hear me when I speak the words, “this world is unjust, and perhaps not for me?”
As one will set sail across the void and endure the darkness that must be felt, just as shadows must be ventured through before one can see the morning light. Where do I sit upon this vessel, aiming for that sunrise? Am I in that boat?
It appears I have been too deeply wounded. I tried to save my love for this great city, and it indeed has been saved, but not for me. It must be so, when things are in jeopardy, someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them and be merry.
But what is faith for those who say goodbye simply when the road has become dark? Did they ever believe, at all?