Shadows play tricks on my light starved eye
As I the watcher of these shapes dancing plead as to why
They on my life tired eyes play tricks, illusions, charades
Turn fleeting light of light into darkness of a million shades.
Yet I the walker, must stumble, stagger on my way,
Forward: no retreat permitted in these mists of grey
Through which others dance as if it appears as rain refreshing and clear
That so murkey and confusing to me, the walker, does appear…