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.
