Does anyone know where Man is bound
Or what and why he seeks,
As he blunders along in his darkness
Like a drunk on tottering feet?
He scurries about in frantic haste
Doubtful of purpose and aim,
E’er fearful of thinking too deeply
Or facing his inmost pain.
Does he turn to drugs to try and forget
As he jives to the latest ‘hits’?
Is he working to build a better world,
Or just tearing the present to bits?
@Michael Thurstan Bassett.
From Vignettes of Childhood and other poems.