The day has come; I wander off to think. My purpose has been accidental, and A change is coming; I am on the brink Of being somewhere I don't don't understand. The years like track that's led me to this place. December coming, ghostly falls the snow: Do I keep going, with no place to go? My markers gone, and I cannot retrace The signs I used follow ere the days I worked. Employment's supposed to be phase, And not identity, and yet I find I stumble now, and wander, cold and blind. Where it all leads I really cannot say, Or what will come, now finally comes the day.