Sight

Product of my weakness
Measuring the times I
Stepped upon my own
Good Fortune

Past wounds must heal
In order for us to feel
The warm fuzzy tide
Of bright future

To someone my mistakes
Will be just that
Then we will approach the dark
With the light of shared burden

As I probe in the night
With hands open wide
I reach for substance
But hope to touch anything

Not satisfied with wander
Nor sitting in the dark
A fertile spot for dreaming
The right spot in which to park

All rights reserved to James Martin Cox